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Stories of
World War I

FORGOTTEN CLASSICS FAM ILY LIBRARY
Libraries of Hope

Stories of World War I
Copyright ÂŠ 2012 by Libraries of Hope, Inc. All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording
or otherwise, without prior written permission of the
publisher. International rights and foreign translations
available only through permission of the publisher.
I Am an American, by Sara Cone Bryant, Boston,
Massachusetts: Houghton Mifflin Company. Copyright by
Sara Bryant Borst, (1918).
Winning a Cause, by John Gilbert Thompson and Inez
Bigwood, Boston: Silver, Burdett, and Company, (1919).
Leaders to Liberty, by Mary H. Wade, Boston: Little,
Brown, and Company, (1919).
Lest We Forget, by John Gilbert Thompson and Inez
Bigwood, Boston: Silver, Burdett, and Company, (1918).
The Children of France and the Red Cross, by June
Richardson Lucas, New York: Frederick A. Stokes
Company, (1918).
Broad Stripes and Bright Stars, Stories of American
History, by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey, Springfield,
Massachusetts: Milton Bradley Company, (1919).

Stories of Americans in the World War, by William H.
Allen and Clare Kleiser, New York: Charles E. Merrill
Company. Copyright by Institute for Public Service, (1918).
The Unseen Host, Stories of the Great War, by Charles L.
Warr, London: Paisley: Alexander Gardner, (1916).
With Our Fighting Men, The Story of Their Faith, Courage,
Endurance in the Great War, by William E. Sellers,
London: The Religious Tract Society, (1915).

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Printed in the United States of America

I Am An American
I am an American. I am a citizen of the American
Republic. My country is a Union of Free States, under
one central government which is chosen by the people
and in which all have equal rights.
The Union of Free States under a Federal
Government, with popular representation, was all
thought out for us by the wise men who made the first
plan of our Government, and it has made our country
the happiest and safest country in the world.
A constitution is a plan of government. Our
Constitution is a great treasure, a precious inheritance
of Liberty. It has been studied and followed by free
nations all over the world.
As loyal a American I will obey the laws of my City,
my State, and my Country. I will do my best to keep
these laws fair and equal. I will obey and defend the
Constitution of the United States of America.

3

My Flag
I must always respect the flags of other countries,
and remember that they are dear to their citizens, just
as the Stars and Stripes are dear to me.
I love the Red, White, and Blue, the flag of America,
because it is my own flag, the flag of my own country,
where I live, and where I shall some day be a governing
citizen.
I love and reverence this flag, because good men
and brave have fought under it for my country; good
and brave men are fighting under it today.
But most of all, I love and reverence the American
flag because it has always stood for right and freedom.
It was born in freedom and honor, it has led many
battles for freedom and honor, and it flies above a
country which is fighting today for the freedom and
honor of the world.
So far as I can help, it shall never be raised over a
war for gain or cruelty, but only to protect the freedom
and honor of men. I will guard it, I will fight for it, I
will love it, for it has earned my love and loyalty.

4

Stand by the Flag
â&#x20AC;&#x153;And for your country, boy, and for that flag, never
dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though
the service carry you through a thousand hells. No matter
what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who
abuses you, never look to another flag, never let a night
pass but you pray God to bless that flag. Remember, boy,
that behind all these men you have to do with, behind
officers, and government, and people even, there is the
Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to
Her as you belong to your own mother. Stand by Her, boy,
as you would stand by your mother.â&#x20AC;?
Edward Everett Hale

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson
5

Love of Liberty
Oh, children, let us never forget, the love of liberty
is a great and sacred love, the faith in manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
brotherhood is a great and sacred faith. The noblest
men of the world have been willing to die for it. It is
greater than the love of power or the fear of death.
The unselfish heroes who sailed from Europe to
fight with the Americans against England showed us
that other men believed in freedom and democracy;
other men also could say, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Give me Liberty or give me
death.â&#x20AC;?
Let us remember the names of these men, and be
grateful to their memories. Freedom has no race; she
is of all races. Where the love of Freedom burns in the
heart, all men are of one family. These men came from
different countries to strike a blow for us, and what
they did shows the natural brotherhood of free people.
We have all heard of Lafayette. He was a French
nobleman, a young French gentleman of wealth and a
brilliant mind. The Marquis of Lafayette was not
twenty; he was as young as the American college boys
who were ambulance drivers in France in 1916 and
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1917. He bought a ship and fitted it up with his own
fortune, and sailed to America. And here he offered his
services as a volunteer without pay.
When we think of the service Lafayette did us, we
must also think of the Americans who have gone to
serve his country in her hour of need. When the
freedom of France was attacked by Germany in 1914,
many young American men did not wait for America
to join the war. They went to France at their own
expense, and said to the French Government, as
Lafayette had said, “We will serve as volunteers
without pay.”
Many of these young men were in the Lafayette
Escadrille, the famous flying corps of Americans
serving for France.
Not all these American heroes have come back to
have their own country, as Lafayette happily went back
to his. Some died across the sea, for Freedom’s sake.
One of the first and bravest of them said, just before he
died, “I pay my debt to Lafayette.” These are noble
and beautiful words.
From another country, Poland, came two more
men noble of heart and title. They were named
Kosciusko and Pulaski. They, too, offered their swords
to freedom on American soil. They had reason to love
freedom, for Poland had been taken away from her
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own people by stronger countries around her, and had
been divided among them. Polish people no longer
ruled themselves.
When we think of Kosciusko and Pulaski, we like to
remember that America began to pay her debt to
Poland when she entered the Great War in 1917.
America promised to defend the rights of small nations
against tyranny. Poland’s freedom was one of those
rights which the Allies were fighting for.
From Germany also came friends of Liberty.
Johann Kalb, born in Bavaria, but later belonging to
the French Army, came with Lafayette to fight for us.
He gave his life for American liberty on American soil.
And a Prussian officer named Von Steuben helped
Washington drill his army at Valley Forge.
When America entered the war against Germany,
President Wilson remembered the love of liberty in
these men and in our many devoted citizens of
German birth, like Carl Schurz, who worked all his life
for American patriotism. He said, “We have no quarrel
with the German people. We have no feeling toward
them but one of sympathy and friendship.”
He meant that we were fighting, not to kill
Germany, but to kill the tyranny that the German
Government stood for. Many friends of the German
people believed with him that our victory would set the
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German people free from tyranny, and bring them at
last to the very freedom and brotherhood their armies
were trying to destroy.

9

Fighting for Liberty
The American flag, the Stars and Stripes, has not
been easy to keep clean and safe. Everything that is
very precious has to be worked and fought for all the
time. Even liberty cannot be got once for all and then
left alone.
The liberty of the American Republic has had to be
fought for again since the first time. The first time was
the War of the American Revolution. The next time
was the American Civil War, in 1861.
Sometimes a nation is attacked by outside enemies,
but sometimes enemies grow up inside the nation. If
the citizens grow selfish or get false ideas, they can
become the most dangerous enemies of all.
This happened in our country. Some of the States
said that liberty meant that every State could decide all
things for itself, and not obey the Federal Government.
These States said also that their citizens had a right to
keep black men as slaves to work for them. So in the
midst of the country that had once fought for freedom,
men were keeping other men out of every kind of
freedom.
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The United States of America said: “We are not
many separate countries; we are one country. Every
State must obey the Federal Government.” And the
United States of America also said: “This is a free
country, no man shall own or control another man,
black or white.”
So the Civil War was fought, to decide whether the
United States should remain one country or not, and
whether every man in the country should be free or
not.
The Federal Government – that is, the United
States of America – won the war. A free and united
country was once more bought for us by the suffering
of other people.
We must always remember that our freedom
depends on unity. A lot of separate selfish States can
be robbed or spoiled like a lot of weak and selfish
children. A union of free States, working each for all
and all for each, is a mighty Nation, unconquered, and
truly free.
We must always remember, too, that no one is free
if all are not free. If one citizen is abused, any citizen
may be abused. As an American child I will learn
carefully what “Union and liberty” mean, and will keep
in my heart the love of this country, which gives me
both.
11

A Day of Prayer
Because Abraham Lincoln was wise and sincere, he
knew that nations like persons make mistakes. Good
nations sometimes sin against the laws of God. He
knew that when a nation sins against the laws of God,
it must suffer, just as each of us suffers for sin.
The American Nation had sinned against the
Divine laws of Brotherhood and Freedom when it
allowed slavery. It suffered deeply in the Civil War,
which almost tore it apart. But the good in the heart of
the American Nation overcame the evil, and put the
wrong thing away.
Abraham Lincoln knew that the American Nation
had sinned and was sorry. And because he was wise
and sincere, he said that the Nation must do what a
person has to do when he has done wrong. The Nation
must ask God's forgiveness.
The United States Senate passed a resolution
asking the President to set apart a day for national
prayer and penitence. Lincoln did this, and April 30,
1863, was made a day of fasting and prayer.

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Almost everything that Abraham Lincoln wrote is
very beautiful. This proclamation is so beautiful and
true that we understand America better if we read and
understand it. Let us ask mother or teacher to read
these sentences out loud to us, and explain the hard
words. This is only part of the proclamation: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"It is the duty of nations as well as of men to own
their dependence upon the overruling power of God;
to confess their sins and transgressions in humble
sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance
will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the
sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and
proven by all history, that those nations only are
blessed whose God is the Lord. . . .
"We have been the recipients of the choicest
bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved, these
many years, in peace and prosperity. We have grown in
numbers, wealth, and power as no other nation has
ever grown; but we have forgotten God. . . .
"It behooves us, then, to humble ourselves before
the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and
to pray for clemency and forgiveness. . . ."
The spirit of these words is the spirit of America,
the spirit of real democracy.

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A democracy is ruled by all the people together, the
everyday people. The everyday people are not perfect,
they make mistakes. But they are not so foolish as to
think they are perfect. When they have made a mistake,
they are willing to say so and to start again. When they
find they have made a poor law, they are willing to
change it. For the everyday people love goodness.
They want things to be right.
This is one of the best things about a democracy.
We can change the bad things, we can keep on
improving our country. In history we find that a ruling
class does not often repent, or try to change its
mistakes. But a people does.
There are two big lessons for us to learn from
America's Day of Prayer. First, we must be honest and
wise about our Government. It may make mistakes and
do things to be sorry for. All good citizens must watch
for these things, and no one must say we are perfect.
Second, when we are grown up, it will be our duty
and privilege to help the American Republic to grow
steadily better, to become more nearly the perfect ideal
of a free country.
Just as she is, we believe that America is the
happiest country in the world. But we are glad with all
our hearts that her people have the power to make her
ever better.
14

Americans All
The Stars and Stripes, the "flag of the free," were
kept safe and clean in the Civil War, as we have seen,
and a land of liberty was once more bought for us, by
sacrifice.
In this second war for Liberty, the men who fought
under the Star-Spangled Banner, and the women who
worked and suffered for it, were not of English or
Dutch blood alone. They were Americans of many
races, French, German, Irish, Italian, Swedish, and
other races. For after the English and Dutch, had come
families from all over Europe to settle in the United
States of America.
Every family that came here came because it
wanted to live in a country which had given its people
the right to govern themselves. These German, Italian,
French, and Scandinavian people came because of the
Declaration of Independence, and because of the
Revolutionary War.
The descendants of these families fought for the
Union in the Civil War because they were true

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Americans. They knew what liberty was worth, and
they knew that union was the only way to keep it.
The love of liberty is in the hearts of all men
everywhere. Sometimes it is buried deep under fear, or
love of ease, or love of gain, but it is always there.
We Americans are not the only people who have
fought for it. The people of France and Switzerland
fought for it and gained it. The people of Russia have
fought again and again for it, and are fighting still to
gain it. The people of Germany fought for liberty in the
Revolution of 1848, and when they lost it many of
them came to this country. Their descendants inherit
the same love of freedom as our own Revolutionary
descendants, and they have made splendid American
citizens.
English people have never ceased to strive for
liberty, and although they did not make a revolution
like the Americans, they gradually got their liberty
through small changes in government. They still have
a king and they still have people who are called lords
and dukes. But England has today a largely
representative popular government.
Italy also fought many battles for freedom and
often lost. But Italy also today has a representative
government, although she, too, still has a king.

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The word "democracy" means a government by the
people, and a republic is the most thorough democracy
there is. But we also call a country a democracy if its
people are truly represented in the Government, and
really manage their own business, even if the country
is not a republic. England and Italy feel that they are
democracies just as France and America do. They have
the spirit of democracy.
Sometime, we believe, all people will gain liberty
and the whole world will be a brotherhood of free
nations.
But we Americans are the most fortunate of all,
because America gained it first, and has kept it.
America is the "land of the free and the home of the
brave." Let us work and pray to keep her that.
We owe this great blessing of liberty to the courage
and sacrifice of Americans of all races. It is for us all
whether we are of English, Irish, French, German,
Italian, or any other blood. And all of us, of every
blood, must fight for it when it is threatened, just as it
was fought for in the Revolution and in the Civil War.
Washington and Lincoln belong to us all, and we must
be true to them.

17

How Countries Live Together
We know something about government now. We
know that each country has either a democratic
government or an autocratic government. The people
of each country obey its laws because that is the only
way they can live together comfortably. But the
different countries have to live with each other, too.
People do not stay in their own country. They travel
for business and pleasure. The ships of all countries use
the same ocean. The products of one country go to
another and often pass through still other countries on
their way. Mail and telegrams go through many
countries.
This could not be without some kind of law to live
by. We could not send mail through a country if that
country let her railroad men steal it, or keep it back.
We could not use the ocean if some country allowed
her navy to sink our ships.
Long ago there were no laws between countries. As
soon as a traveler left his own country he was likely to
be robbed or killed. But as soon as business and travel
began to grow between countries, the countries began
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to make agreements with each other. What
governments agree upon is called a "treaty." A treaty is
a promise of governments to each other.
Every promise is a solemn thing. A man who breaks
his promise is despised by other men. But a treaty is far
more solemn than a man's promise. It is the promise of
a whole nation. If it is broken, it breaks the reputation
of a whole people.
After hundreds of years of making treaties, some
things had been agreed upon so often that they became
a kind of law. Those things that all civilized countries
agreed on were called "International Law."
But International Law was only an understanding.
There was no court and no book of laws, and there
were no lawyers for it. When countries disagreed about
International Law there was no one to decide. War
decided.
All the countries kept up armies and navies in case
of disagreement. It cost millions of dollars to keep the
armies and navies, and all the millions had to come out
of the citizens' pockets. This had made much suffering.
Wise men in every country saw that there ought to
be a court to settle the disputes of nations, with a real
book of International Law. These men saw that the

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right way for countries to settle their disputes was by
arbitration.
Arbitration means to call in an outsider who can
listen to both sides, see the thing in a calm way, and
decide justly. The world needed a Court of Arbitration
with books of International Law and all the power that
real courts have.
In 1898, the Czar of Russia, who is now no longer
a Czar, invited all the governments to meet together
and talk about a Court of Arbitration. Russia was one
of the countries that suffered with a big army, and the
Czar saw how much a Court of Arbitration was
needed.
All the big countries sent representatives, and the
meeting was held at The Hague, a beautiful city of
Holland. At this meeting the countries agreed on the
Code of International Law and made a plan for a
Court of Arbitration.
In 1907, the countries sent their representatives
again to The Hague and more was agreed upon.
Now at last the world had a Code of International
Law, and a court where disputes could be settled, and
an agreement about the most important things. It was
now written down in books where every one could see

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it, just what the nations could expect of each other,
what they could depend on.

21

What the Nations Promised
What the nations agreed on showed what the
general conscience of the world believed to be right,
just as the laws of a country show what the general
conscience of that country believes to be right.
Most of the agreements were about war, because
war has always been the most terrible danger to
nations and it is in time of danger that most protection
is needed.
Of all the mean and dishonest things that used to
happen in wars, nothing had made so much trouble as
the violation of neutrality.
Suppose on both sides of your house were families
that disliked each other. Suppose the boys of the two
families got great stones and threw at each other. Then
suppose one family came over on your porch and
threw stones at the other house from the shelter of
yours. All the stones thrown back at them would hit
your windows and your family; and you, who had not
quarreled, would suffer the most of all.
That is what has often happened in war. It is a
violation of neutrality. To violate neutrality is for a
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warring country to go into a country that is not in the
war, and use it to fight his enemy.
The nations at The Hague solemnly agreed that
this sin against the rights of nations should not be
committed. There should be no violation of neutrality.
One of the worst violations of neutrality that can
happen is when the vessels of a peaceful country are
captured or destroyed by the warring countries. The
ocean is the natural open road for all countries. Every
one has a right to travel there. War or no war, no
country has a right to destroy the vessels of a country
not at war with her.
So this also was one of the agreements of the
nations at The Hague. There should be no violation of
neutrality on the sea.
Another agreement of great importance was about
the sick and wounded in war, and those who take care
of them.
Savages have no respect for innocence and no
mercy for the helpless. But the civilized world realizes
that some things must be sacred, even in war. To hurt
a wounded man, or a nurse, or a doctor who is risking
his life to help and save, is too low, too ugly. The
nations said at The Hague that they would agree not to
attack each other's hospitals, hospital ships, and
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first-aid tents, and not to attack the helpless, or those
who care for them.
And because a prisoner of war is also helpless, being
no longer in his army or protected by his own country,
the nations at The Hague agreed on certain fair and
humane treatment for prisoners of war.
Oh, how glad the world was when these agreements
were made at The Hague! Especially in America we
were happy, because in America we had known how
sweet it is to have peace, and we hoped no war would
ever come again to the world. We thought that there
would be no need of war, for now the world had agreed
on the laws which it must obey, and had a plan for a
Court of Arbitration, where all nations could settle
their disputes by these laws.

24

When the Great War Began
We were right in thinking there was no need for
war. But we were wrong in thinking war would not
come. There was no need for war if no nation wanted
war, but there was a chance for war if any nation
wanted it.
A court would not be of much use in your town if
there were no police. Suppose the judge decided that
John Brown had stolen George White's money, and
should pay it back, and John Brown simply said, "I will
not." Who would make him?
With every court of justice there must be a way to
make people obey its decisions. The Court of
Arbitration had no police, and so it could not force any
nation to come to it for decision or to obey if it came.
Only a great big World-Police of armies and navies
could have made the Court of Arbitration able to
prevent war.
And one nation â&#x20AC;&#x201D; that is, one nation's
Government â&#x20AC;&#x201D; wanted war. So war came. In 1914 an
excuse was found, just as the autocracies have always
found excuses. A member of the Austrian royal family
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was murdered in Serbia. Few people in the outside
world knew much about the man who was killed. He
had never been important to other people. But his
death became the match that set all Europe on fire. It
was the "excuse." Then something like this happened:
Austria said to Serbia, "You must pay for this by
humbling yourself to us like a slave."
Serbia said, "We will do what is right, but you ask
too much."
Austria said, "Then we will make war on you."
Russia said, "If you make war on my friend Serbia,
I will make war on you."
Germany said, "Austria and Germany are one. I will
make war on any one who supports Serbia against
Austria."
France said, "I am Russia's ally. If you make war on
Russia, I will fight."
Germany said, "Then I will fight France and I will
go through Belgium to get at her."
England said, "If you violate Belgium, I will fight
too."
Turkey and Bulgaria joined with Germany, and
later, Italy and Roumania joined the friends of France.
We call Germany, Austria, and Turkey the Central
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Powers. England, France, and their friends, we call the
Entente Allies.
So in a few weeks the greatest war in all history was
being fought.
It was all so fast and strange that people in America
did not know what to think. We felt as if we were at the
theater, looking at a strange play, and soon we should
go out of doors and see the peaceful stars, and know it
had all been make-believe.
From the very first moment each of the warring
countries began to tell the world, in the public
speeches of its representatives, that the others had
begun the war. Each country said, "I was attacked. I am
only defending myself." Each country said, too, that the
enemy had long planned and wanted war.
The people of the United States did not know what
to think. We knew that most of the other wars in
Europe had been the fault of both sides, and that the
causes were hidden from the public. We thought,
perhaps this war also was the fault of both sides, and
that the hidden causes would soon be uncovered and
would show the truth.
But one thing we could all see without waiting. One
thing was clear. We might not know which country
planned the war, but we did know what each country
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did in the war. From the first hour one country did
things against International Law and against its
agreements. That country was Germany.
Belgium, the small, rich, busy country between
northern France and Germany, was a neutral country.
Germany had made a solemn treaty to respect
Belgium's neutrality in case of war with France.
But Germany broke her solemn promise. Across
Belgium was an easy way to Paris; it was an easy way
because France had trusted the word of Germany and
had built no forts on that border. Germany took the
easy way. In spite of her solemn treaty, she marched
her millions of men, her guns, her horses, her mighty
trucks, straight into Belgium to get at France.
The whole world felt the shock of such an act of
national dishonor. And the act was made worse by the
speech of the Chancellor of Germany, which showed
the world that Germany did not even care for honor.
The Chancellor said to the British Ambassador that it
was dreadful for England to declare war because
Germany had violated Belgium’s neutrality. He said,
"Just for a word, — ‘neutrality’ — just for a scrap of
paper!"
Nothing that Germany did afterwards gave the
world a clearer idea of how she felt about honor. She

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called her treaty, the solemn promise of one nation to
another, a scrap of paper.

29

Honor and Dishonor
Dishonor, like darkness, looks blacker against the
light. Belgium's honor shone as pure and white as
Germany's dishonor was black and ugly. The little
country rose as one man, and fought. Every man and
boy who could carry a gun rushed to the call of King
Albert, and the small army, only partly trained, partly
armed, badly fed, threw itself in the way of the endless
stream of the tremendous German army.
Every child must read the story of Belgium's
defense, for it is one of the great stories of all history.
The German army, great as it was, was held back by
the magnificent defense of the little Belgian army. The
leaders who started to march into Paris like a holiday
procession, found themselves fighting in Belgium,
while England and France had time to send soldiers to
defend Paris.
This enraged the German leaders, and all at once
here in America we began to hear stories so awful that
we could not believe them.
We heard that the Germans had burned up whole
towns in Belgium, that they had taken hundreds of
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village people, not soldiers, had driven them into
village squares and cemeteries, and had shot them
dead in masses. We heard that they were killing
mothers and little babies, and old men, who could not
harm any one. We heard that they were stealing what
they did not burn, and, worst of all, that they were
torturing people. To torture â&#x20AC;&#x201D; that is, to hurt in
dreadful ways on purpose â&#x20AC;&#x201D; is something only the
savages are expected to do.
We said in America, "These are stories told by
frightened people, who exaggerate everything. They
cannot be true."
But soon came letters from our own people who
happened to be in Belgium when the Germans came,
men and women of the highest character, our own
Government's representatives. They said it was true.
Soon came Belgian men and women to this country
who had escaped, men and women of unstained
reputation. They said it was true. By and by the French
and Belgian Governments held courts of inquiry, and
after all the witnesses had been examined, the judges
said it was true.
America did not wholly believe it even then. But in
the years that followed, Germany went on doing
dreadful things, violating all the principles of
International Law, all the laws of international
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conscience, until at last the world had to believe. It was
true.
First Germany violated Belgium's neutrality and
called her solemn treaty a scrap of paper. Then
Germany violated the laws of humanity by killing
non-combatants, by destroying cities and towns, by
torture and by theft. And soon other terrible violations
were added to these.
The French and English armies that were hurried to
France, with almost no preparation and with no time
to make plans, gave the Germans the same surprise
that Belgium did.
Germany had millions of soldiers trained to obey
like clockwork; she had ammunition, supplies,
everything. And her plan was perfectly ready. But
France and England had the soul which cannot be
conquered; the soul of Freedom and Honor. Every
soldier felt the burning anger of a man whose home is
attacked. A righteous cause makes a mighty army, as
we Americans know. And the army of France met the
army of Germany like a rock standing against the
beating surf.
We shall read much of the Battle of the Marne,
when we are older. And when we read it we shall find
our hearts beating and our eyes wet, thanking God for

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the spirit in the hearts of men that makes them so
heroic.
There at the river Marne, which lay between the
German enemy and their Paris, the Frenchmen said,
"No further." The German army, sweeping on, was
suddenly stopped by a living wall of invincible
defenders.
Dying by tens of thousands, borne down by awful
numbers, fighting in a living volcano of fire and noise
and suffering, the French and British soldiers pushed
the German army back, back, away from the Marne
and back to the Aisne. The battle of the Marne saved
Paris, and France.
The German army settled down for a long war,
instead of a short and easy one. And again we began to
hear horrible stories. French towns and French people
were suffering as the Belgians had suffered. And again
we found the stories were true.
Every month some new and unbelievable violation
was done.
People in the conquered towns were driven out of
their homes like herds of cattle and made to work for
Germany. No slavery the world ever knew was so
dreadful as this.

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English prisoners of war were starved and had dogs
set on them by Germany.
And at last the German army began to fire on
hospitals, stretcher-bearers, wounded men, and nurses.
Of all the horrible things this seemed the worst. But
something worse was to come.

34

The Lusitania
The ships that carried grain and meat to Germany
could not get past the English fighting ships in the
English Channel and the North Sea. The German
Navy tried to protect them and to keep the food-ships
away from England in turn. But the English Navy was
the stronger, and the English commanders stopped the
food-ships on their way and sent them into English and
French harbors.
So Germany thought of a new way to starve
England and win the war.
Germany had been making a great many
submarines. The submarine is a fighting ship which
can go under water. It fires torpedoes at the enemy
ships while it is under water. When it comes to the
surface the crew fire guns. The submarine was
invented by an American, and is used by nearly all
countries. Germany had been making large and very
powerful submarines.
In February, 1915, the German Government said to
the world, "We are going to send our submarines out
into the ocean around England, and sink every ship
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that comes near, no matter what country it belongs to,
nor what it carries. We do not care whether it is a
passenger ship or where it is going. We will sink the
little fishing boats and the big steamers all alike. We
will not give any warning, or try to save the people. We
shall torpedo every ship we can catch. We will starve
England at any cost to the world."
The German Government said this in more
grown-up words, but this was what the words meant.
We have heard about violations of International
Law. This was a violation of International Law and of
The Hague promises. It was more than that, it was a
violation of the human conscience. The world could
not believe that Germany meant it.
On a spring day in 1915 the great steamship
Lusitania sailed out of New York Harbor to cross to
England. Our fathers and mothers have always liked to
go to Europe by the Cunard Line, and the Lusitania
was one of the best ships of the line. There were many
families on board. Many mothers and little children
who had to go home to England, Scotland, or France
were traveling on the Lusitania because she was so safe
and swift. There were more than a thousand people
who had nothing at all to do with the war.
On the 7th of May, when the Lusitania was almost
at the coast of England, an unseen submarine shot two
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torpedoes into her. There were two fearful explosions,
and instantly the Lusitania began to sink. In the terrible
fright and confusion, the crews hurried as fast as they
could to lower the lifeboats. Brave men rushed about
putting little children in the boats, and helping women.
But faster and faster the Lusitania settled under them.
There was no time, no help, no hope.
In less than twenty minutes the great ship sank to
the bottom of the sea, and all those hundreds of
mothers and fathers and little children were struggling
in the icy water.
Poor little babies! Like wax dolls, they floated a
moment on the waves, helpless, then they sank
beneath the whirling waters and were drowned.
One thousand, one hundred and ninety-eight
people were murdered at sea that day by the German
Government and its submarine!
While the whole civilized world was filled with
horror and pity, Germany held a special holiday for her
school-children, to celebrate the sinking. The German
newspapers said, "With joy and pride we contemplate
this latest deed of our navy." And Germany had medals
made, celebrating the sinking of the Lusitania and
making fun of the people who sailed in her!

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Then the world knew that Germany meant what
she said about submarines. And the world began to
understand that Germany did not care for the things
the other civilized countries had been learning to care
for. She did not care for honor, and justice, and mercy.
She only cared to get what she wanted by any means
that would succeed.
Men who read and study the thoughts of other
nations had been telling us for a long time that this was
so. They had studied German books of politics and
war, and they had told us that Germany thought
differently from the rest of us. Those German books
told that the German Government was planning to
make itself ruler of the world. Those books said that
deceit and cruelty did not matter if only Germany got
what she wanted.
If all countries had read Germany's books and had
believed the German people really meant them, we
might all have known that this terrible war was about
to come.
But almost no one had believed it. Even after so
many horrors in France and Serbia and Belgium, many
people could not yet believe it. It did not seem that any
country could be so wicked.
It was especially hard here in America to believe
evil of Germany because we knew so many people of
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German blood. We had found our citizens of German
blood as honest, as kind, as true to the flag of Liberty as
other Americans. So we could not think the Germans
in Germany were very different.
But we had not known that Germany had changed
her ideals since these Germans came to America. And
the change of ideals had changed the nation.
What you care most about, your ideal, makes you
into its own image. If you care for money more than
anything else, you grow mean and greedy. If you care
most of all for show, you grow foolish and artificial. If
you care most for the "Kingdom of God and His
righteousness," you grow beautiful and true. And a
nation is like a person.
The German nation had been taught to care about
German power more than anything else. Germany was
to be everything, the rest of the world nothing.
Germany must grow to be a tremendous empire, ruling
the world and the world's trade. It did not matter what
happened to any one else or to any other nation. A
greater Germany at any cost was Germany's ideal.
The Kaiser and his ruling class had taught the
people that the way to get this greater Germany was to
have a mighty army, and to make the army obey him
absolutely. There must be no conscience but the
Kaiser's word. And "frightfulness" (the German word
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means "things that are terrible") was to be the spirit of
the army.
The sinking of the Lusitania showed to the world
that Germany would violate any law, break any
promise, to win the war and gain the power she
wanted.

40

When America Fought
Over one hundred of the people killed on the
Lusitania were American citizens. So the sinking of the
Lusitania was a violation of America's neutrality as well
as a violation of all International Law. Many persons in
America thought the United States ought to go to war
with Germany at once. But our Government was very
anxious not to add to the suffering of the world, not to
make the war any longer. We still hoped Germany
might be persuaded to regret her lawless acts, and
change. America still hoped to bring back peace to the
world.
Many messages were sent from the United States
Government to the German Government, and back
again. Such messages are called ''notes."
After many notes Germany promised the United
States that she would not again torpedo a passenger
ship without warning.
But she broke that promise just as she had broken
her promises to other nations. And the German
submarines began to do still more terrible things.
When they had sunk a ship, and the poor men, women,
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and children had got into lifeboats, the submarine
crews shot at these helpless people, and killed them.
They took English sailors from lifeboats and put them
on their submarine deck, and then they shut the
submarine up tight and dived underneath the water, so
that the sailors were all swept off and drowned. They
even torpedoed hospital ships full of helpless wounded
men and their doctors and nurses.
All this time the German representatives to the
United States were pretending that Germany was very
friendly to America, and in Berlin the Kaiser was
pretending to our Ambassador that he was very
friendly to America.
But our Government had secret service men
watching and listening. By and by they found out that
the German representatives in this country were
making a secret war on us. They were really officers in
command of a secret army.
These men had been given money by the German
Government to pay a whole army of spies. The spies
found out when our ships were sailing and sent word
to the submarines.
And the German representatives paid men to blow
up munition factories and kill hundreds of innocent
Americans. They paid men to deceive German
Americans in places where there were many ignorant
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people, and to teach them to believe in Germany and
to fight against America.
One of the worst things the German Government
did was to try to get Mexico to make war on us. They
had even planned to give a part of the United States to
Mexico as a reward, and had planned to put German
officers in charge of Mexican troops.
So at last after three years the Great World War had
come across the ocean, and was threatening the
American Republic. Americans were no longer safe on
the open ocean, Americans were no longer safe in their
own factories, they could no longer live in peace with
their neighbor countries. The same iron hand which
had crushed bleeding Belgium and Serbia, and was
now trying to crush France and England, had reached
out to drag the American Republic into ruin also.
The United States did not declare war on Germany.
Germany was already making war on America, under
cover. And the President of the United States only
recognized that fact.
On the 2nd of April, 1917, President Wilson went
before our Congress in Washington, and very
solemnly, very sadly, gave the message that we were at
War with Germany.

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President Wilson's message was very long. When
we are grown up it will be a part of history. There are
some parts of it we can easily understand now. We can
read these parts over, as our mothers and fathers have
often done since they were first said to Congress: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"With a profound sense of the solemn and even
tragical character of the step I am taking and of the
grave responsibilities which it involves, but in
unhesitating obedience to what I deem my
constitutional duty, I advise that the Congress declare
the recent course of the Imperial German Government
to be in fact nothing less than war against the
Government and people of the United States. . . .
"We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no
conquest, no dominion. We seek no indemnities for
ourselves, no material compensation for the sacrifices
we shall freely make. We are but one of the champions
of the rights of mankind. We shall be satisfied when
those rights have been made as secure as the faith and
the freedom of nations can make them. . . .
"To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our
fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we
have, with the pride of those who know that the day
has come when America is privileged to spend her
blood and her might for the principles that gave her

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birth and happiness and the peace which she has
treasured.
" God helping her, she can do no other."

45

What America Fought For
President Wilsonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s message tells us plainly why the
United States was fighting Germany and what we were
fighting for. All of us American children must clearly
understand and remember what the greatest war of the
world was about. When we are grown up the world will
be different from what it was before this war, and we
want to understand how America helped make it
different. The War was about the same thing as the
Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the Spanish
War.
In the War of the Revolution we fought to get
liberty for America. In the Civil War we fought to keep
liberty for America. In the Spanish War we fought to
get liberty for a small, oppressed country.
In 1917, we fought to keep our own liberty and to
give liberty to all other nations. Each time tyranny
threatened freedom. This last time the greatest tyranny
ever known threatened all the world.
President Wilson said, "We must make the world
safe for democracy."

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One of our first American volunteers wrote home
to his little son, "Never forget that your father went
into this war to keep the world safe for all little
children."
Another of our American volunteers, who sailed for
France at Christmas time, said, "We boys feel that we
are going to war to end war. We believe when we have
won this war there will really be 'Peace on Earth.'"
These three sayings explain very clearly what
America was fighting for.
America went out to fight the country that tore
little children from their mothers' arms, that drowned
little helpless babies, and killed loving mothers before
their children's eyes. America fought to keep that
country from ruling the world. Our fathers and our big
brothers went willingly to battle and suffering and
death, because they would rather die than see liberty,
mercy, and justice die.
Germany had said that America would not fight.
Many times in Berlin our Ambassador had been
treated badly by the German Government when he
tried to get fair treatment for the English and French
prisoners. And always he had heard it said there was
nothing to fear because "America would not fight."

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Germany was mistaken. President Wilson's
message was given to Congress in April, 1917. At that
time the United States had a small army and a small
navy. On the Fourth of July, one year later, the United
States had one million fitting men in France, and a
million more in America getting ready to go!
In a few weeks after the President's message a
squadron of our fighting ships was already off the coast
of England fighting the German submarines, and a
flotilla of armed yachts was in French waters
protecting the French fishing vessels and the troop
ships. By the Fourth of July, 1918, there were fifty
thousand men in the American Navy off the coast of
Europe, and another great navy in training on our own
coast. America would fight!
America did not want to fight. No right-minded
person likes fighting, but America would rather fight
than let Germany spoil the world for right-minded
people to live in. Once more a great cause made a
mighty army.
Our American fathers and brothers wanted peace,
but they wanted peace for all nations. They were not
willing to have peace and comfort for themselves while
their brothers were forced to an unjust war.
When America entered the War she felt that such
horrors must never be let happen again. The world
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must be fixed so that no nation ever again could be
able to say, "I will take what I please and do what I like.
My might is right."
To make the world safe for all little children, to
make the world safe for democracy, means to make it
safe against any country that might ever try to do what
Germany has done. So America entered the War not
just to beat Germany, but to make the world really and
truly safe for democracy.
As loyal American children we are thankful that
America was able to help our suffering sister countries
against their oppressor. We are thankful that America
had a President who could see so clearly and say so
powerfully what the nations on earth were fighting for.
When we are grown up we will do our part to keep our
country true to the high, unselfish purpose with which
she entered the Greatest War; to protect the human
rights of all peoples, and to help them live in a spirit of
brotherhood in a world safe for all.

49

My Navy
To make the world safe for little children meant to
fight, to fight under the Stars and Stripes by land and
sea. "First to fight" is the watchword of the United
States Marines, a part of our American Navy. And first
to fight after America entered the War was our
splendid Navy.
The American Navy has a proud record of one
hundred and fifty years of success, of courage, and of
noble character in officers and men.
This record shows that the United States Navy has
always been ready; ready to obey orders, ready to go
into action. It is as ready today as it always was.
As soon as America entered the War, our
Government sent a squadron of fighting ships, called
destroyers, across the ocean to help the English Navy
fight the German submarines. It was cold weather. The
voyage was especially rough and hard on ships and
men. After such a trip it usually takes much time to put
everything in repair and to rest the men.
When the American destroyers arrived in an
English harbor, the English commander under whom
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they were to serve, Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, said to the
officer in command of the squadron, "How soon can
you be ready to go to sea?"
The American commander answered, "The ships
and the men are fit to sail at once, sir, as soon as we can
take on fuel."
The English Admiral was pleased, as well he might
be. Such readiness meant hard, constant work all the
way over, and it meant strength and endurance in both
men and ships.
The United States Navy went to work, with the
English and French Navies, to keep the deadly gray
German submarine from winning the War.
Out on the wide ocean that should be free and safe,
those submarines were lying under the waves like
sharks waiting to devour the precious lives of men,
women, and little children.
They sunk the great ships with torpedoes and sent
the women and children down into the icy water. They
sunk the little fishing boats, and drowned the
hard-working fishermen. But most they hoped to sink
the big transport steamers loaded with our American
boys on their way to France to fight for the world's
freedom.

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But some one else was out on the wide ocean. The
United States Navy was there, ready and keen and
brave. Working with the English and French Navies,
our destroyers, our submarines, our small, swift
submarine chasers, and our great flying machines were
hunting for the German submarines. All day while we
were in school, all night while we were asleep, in wind,
in storm, in sun and rain, our Navy watched and fought
for us.
America sent millions of men across the ocean and
millions of tons of food and supplies, and the
American Navy with God's help carried them safely
over the terrors of the sea. Some of our brave brothers
went down to death, but every man of the millions who
safely arrived resolved to fight the harder for those who
died.
Ship after ship, ship after ship, the American Navy
took them in safety to the other side of the sea, and
with them it took the ships that carried food, and
clothes, and ammunition to our Allies.
One day our Navy caught a German submarine and
sent a shot into her .The sailors on the submarine had
to jump into the sea when their submarine sank under
them, just as they had made many a poor little child
leap into the waves. But the American sailors did not
stand and shoot the drowning men, as the Germans
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have so often done. American men are not like that.
They saved as many of the German sailors as they
could, and got them on board their own boat. And
then two of our American sailors jumped into the sea
after one of the German men who was drowning. At
the risk of their own lives, they saved him.
Why did they do this? Because we were not at war
for hate or cruelty. We were at war to stop cruelty and
injustice. So long as the enemy is fighting, we must
fight him. But when he has surrendered, he is no longer
an enemy, he is only a man.
American soldiers and sailors fight for the great
country that follows Washington, and Lincoln, and
Wilson. They fight in a navy whose leaders are men
like Captain Jack Philip, who said, "Don't cheer boys,
the poor fellows are dying."
The German submarine crews were fighting for a
country that believed in "frightfulness," a country
whose emperor allowed helpless prisoners to be
worried by savage dogs. They were fighting under
leaders who proclaimed a national holiday for the
school-children to celebrate the murder of a thousand
innocent men, women, and babies on the Lusitania.
We can all see the difference.

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The spirit of our Navy is the spirit of absolute
readiness, high courage, and unselfish devotion. There
is no cruelty in our brothers in navy blue. They live and
die true to the noblest type of American manhood.
This is true of the men and of the officers alike.
It is an old naval custom to name each new
destroyer for some hero of our history who has done a
deed worthy to be so remembered.
A little while ago the Secretary of the Navy was
asked to give a name to a new destroyer. This is what
he said: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"I took up first the names of the great admirals, and
then the great captains, and all the American heroes of
the sea, and all were worthy. And then I thought of
Osmond C. Ingram, second-class gunner's mate on the
destroyer Cassin. I thought of the night when he was
on watch and saw a U-boat's torpedo headed for his
ship. He was standing near the place where the high
explosives were stored, and the torpedo was headed for
that spot. In a flash he was engaged in hurling
overboard those deadly explosives, which would have
destroyed the ship if they remained on board, and he
managed to get rid of enough of them to save the lives
of all the officers and sailors on board, but he lost his
own life. So I named the newest and finest addition to
the American Navy the Osmond C. Ingram."
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The spirit of Osmond Ingram, who gave his life for
the life of his comrades, is the spirit of our American
Navy.
As a loyal American child, I will give my thanks and
love to our brave soldiers of the sea, who give their
lives to keep the ocean safe and free. And I will pray
that our Navy may ever be as it has been, brave in
battle and merciful in victory.

55

My Army
When the Liberty Bell rang the first time the
listening farmboy in New England fields dropped the
reins on the neck of his plough-horse and ran for his
musket and powder horn. He was the Minute Man,
our first American soldier. Strong and brave, honest
and kind, he was ready to leave all he loved and knew,
on the minute, to defend Liberty.
When the Liberty Bell rang in the greatest of all
wars, the boys in America's colleges and fields and
shops, dropped their books and took and volunteered
for service. New Minute Men these were, true to the
old type in the new world.
Before America entered the Great War, some of
these new American Minute Men were already in
France, carrying the wounded to safety, as ambulance
drivers. They were fighting in the Foreign Legion, they
were flying in the Lafayette Escadrille.
When America entered the War, she said,
"Democracy is fighting this war. Ours shall be the army
of democracy, all shall serve alike." So our army was an
army of universal service.
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Our big brothers were all together in the Army of
the American Republic. The boy who went to Harvard
College was side by side with the boy who went to the
University of California. The boy who owned a costly
automobile marched beside the boy who drove a truck
for a living. The boy whose great-grandmother was a
New England Puritan marched beside the boy whose
father came from Italy, or Scandinavia, or Russia, or
Germany. All together they came, our army of
brothers, all true Americans, all fighting under the
Star-Spangled Banner to make the world safe for little
children.
Straight and slim in American khaki brown, with
the long, easy American stride, these brothers of ours
went marching down the home streets away from us.
Millions went marching down their camp streets, all
over the country. Hundreds of thousands went
marching down the docks where the long ships lay
waiting to take them across the sea to France.
Every American soldier knew that the German
submarines were waiting out there somewhere under
the blue water. He knew that the great ship with its
thousands and thousands of men might at any moment
be shattered and sunk, and that he and his comrades
might die a cruel death.

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Every American soldier knew that when he reached
France he must go into battle against the most
powerful and merciless army the world had ever
known.
But every American soldier knew what he was there
for. He was going across the sea to do God's work in
the world, and to die doing it if the need came. So our
army of brothers went singing on the great ships across
the ocean.
In January, 1918, a German submarine at last
caught one of those troop ships, and torpedoed her. It
was the troop ship Tuscania. Then our brothers
showed to the world the spirit of the American Army.
In the dark and bitter cold, with the high seas raging
around them, nearly two thousand men stood on the
deck of the sinking ship. They felt her settling, settling,
slowly but surely. Through the long minutes they
waited for help, remembering the Lusitania, and
knowing that if help did not come soon they must
surely drown. They saw the crushed bodies of
comrades who were hit by the explosion. They heard
the moans of dying men. They saw the lifeboats put off
in a raging sea that swept them away into death. For
hours helpless on the sinking deck they waited for life
or death to come up out of the darkness.

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And what did they do, as they stood there in the
cold and the waiting? They sang! Those splendid
brothers of ours in khaki brown stood quietly shoulder
to shoulder, and sang their message of courage and
faith out into the night!
That was the spirit of our American Army. To stand
quietly in the presence of terror, every man taking his
chance with the other, and to sing in the presence of
death, was the spirit of the New Minute Man.
One of the destroyers was at last able to get side by
side with the sinking Tuscania, and all the American
soldiers standing there got safely on to the destroyer's
deck.
They were saved, but they could not forget the
comrades whose lifeless bodies were washed up on the
rocky shore next day. They knew then better than
before what spirit it was they had gone out to fight
against, the spirit of cruelty and stealth that ruled the
German Army and used the German submarine.
In this army of ours white men and black men
fought for the same cause. The sons of the men who
had toiled as slaves in the cotton-fields fought under
the same flag as the sons of men who had owned those
cotton-fields. It was the Army of the American Union,
going out to end a new slavery, and to win a new peace
for all men.
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Our black men made brave soldiers. The first of
them who received the honor of a decoration received
it for great courage and skill. Standing all alone on
outpost duty, he saw four Germans creeping up to
attack a part of his trench. Alone he fought them all off.
He killed two and captured one, and the other ran
away.
That also was the spirit of our Army. When they
fight they fight hard, with keen eyes to see a foe, strong
hands to handle a gun, and steady nerves to shoot
straight.
One day a company of American engineers was
hard at work laying the rails for a piece of track over
which the English soldiers could send their supply
trains up to the front. It was very near the front
trenches. The engineers were working in danger from
bursting shells. They had surveyorsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; instruments with
them, and picks, shovels and tools.
Suddenly the Germans attacked. They came
running up, firing their rifles, and throwing their hand
grenades, and in a moment they were all around the
American engineers.
But the American engineers did not surrender.
Some of them found guns. The others caught up their
pick-axes and shovels, and fought with those. And they
fought so well that they beat the Germans back and
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cleared their own way to the English trenches. There
they fought side by side with the English soldiers until
the attack was beaten.
To fight hard and never give up was the spirit of our
first Minute Men. It is still the spirit of our Army.
One day a company of American soldiers was at
rest in a small French village. Most of the men had very
little money. Many of them had nothing more than
their pay.
Along the dusty road came a poor desolate old
woman. She was ragged and thin, and her eyes showed
that she had lost her mind.
There was a little shop where some of the American
boys were buying sandwiches and hot coffee. They led
the old woman into the shop and gave her food. Then
one of them who spoke French, talked with her. When
he had heard her story he translated it to the other
soldiers.
The poor ragged old woman had been the happy
mother in a prosperous household in northern France.
When the Germans conquered the town, the soldiers
had come into her house, had killed her daughter and
her husband, and had left her half dead.
A few days later one of her two sons had been killed
in battle. Then she had started wandering over the
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Selections From I Am an American

roads, to find the other son. Her mind was quite gone,
and she would never stay in any one place, but always
wandered away, hoping to find her boy.
When the young man had finished translating, the
American soldiers were all crying. They gave the poor
mother nearly all the money they had. One boy who
had no money gave her a pair of woolen socks, and
another gave her his muffler.
That, too, was the spirit of our Army.
The soldiers in our Army and Navy have not only
given up their education, their work, their pleasure;
they not only offer their lives in the service; but they
have given from their little salary to the Red Cross, to
the Y.M.C.A., and over and over again to the suffering
women and children of northern France.
The spirit of brotherhood, of sacrifice and service,
is the spirit of the American Army. And as American
children we should know it and be proud of it. Let us
say a prayer that our American brothers in khaki
brown may ever be worthy of the "General Order" that
our American Commander in France, General
Pershing, sent to his boys, our American Expeditionary
Force: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"Hardship will be your lot, but trust in God will give
you comfort; temptation will befall you, but the
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Selections From I Am an American

teachings of our Saviour will give you strength. Let
your valor as a soldier, and your conduct as a man, be
an inspiration to your comrades and an honor to your
country."

63

The American Red Cross
There are many flags in the world, of many colors.
There is one flag that belongs to all nations alike. That
flag is a red cross on a white background, the flag of the
Red Cross Society. It stands for the love and mercy
that came into the world when Jesus died on the cross.
It stands for the blood of suffering that is alike in all
races, and the purity of mercy that all humanity needs
alike. That flag, like the Stars and Stripes, was made by
a woman, but in a different way from that in which our
flag was made by Betsy Ross. For the Red Cross
Society was founded by a woman. Its beautiful
meaning and holy work grew out of the compassion of
a woman's heart.
It is our honor and privilege as American children
to belong to the Nation that gave birth to Clara
Barton, the founder of the Red Cross.
Clara Barton was a teacher. She was bom in the
little town of Oxford, Massachusetts. When our Civil
War broke out she was a clerk in Washington, but she
went into a hospital and became a nurse. She took care
of sick and wounded soldiers.
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Selections From I Am an American

The suffering of soldiers and the grief of their
families became to her the most important thing in life.
She spent her money and gave her time to the work of
finding men who were reported missing. She
comforted the sorrowing families, and cared for the
sick soldiers wherever she found them.
After the Civil War Miss Barton went to Europe for
a rest. But she soon found work waiting for her. War
came between France and Germany, a terrible and
bloody war. Clara Barton helped the Grand Duchess of
Baden arrange hospitals for the care of the soldiers.
She followed the German army and superintended the
work of nursing and relief.
In 1881, the American Red Cross Society was
formed by her efforts, and she became its President.
Before her death Miss Barton superintended the
work of relief in three more great disasters. She took
care of the Armenians in 1896, she took care of the
Spanish and American soldiers in 1898, and later of the
English soldiers in Africa.
What is this association that Clara Barton founded?
It is the great association that makes a business of
helping those who need help. It is the mother of lonely
children, the nurse of sick soldiers, the kind sister of
the poor, the big brother of the weak and helpless. The
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Selections From I Am an American

American Red Cross is the greatest single business
organization in the world, and its whole business is
helpfulness.
When we take our dimes and dollars to the Red
Cross, we send them straight to some one who needs
help, some one who is suffering.
Perhaps my dollar went to a little town near the
Swiss border, sometime in the year 1918.
A train from Germany pulls into the station. A
crowd of women and children stumble off. They are
French women and children who have been kept
prisoners in Germany, and are being sent back to
France. They are in rags, they are faint with long
hunger, they are pinched and yellow with sickness.
One poor little girl falls on the platform. She is too
weak to walk. Quickly a man with a cross on his sleeve
lifts her in his arms. He carries her gently to a big
motor ambulance with a red cross on its side. The little
girl opens her eyes a short time later and finds herself
in a soft bed, in a cool, clean room, near other little
children in other comfortable beds. A gentle nurse is
holding a cup of broth to the hungry little mouth.
Then the little girl is bathed, fed, and comforted.
The nurse brings her a dolly to keep for her own.

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Selections From I Am an American

When she is well enough to get up she finds a nice
dress and fresh clothes to put on.
My dollar was one of the dollars that paid for the
ambulance, the hospital, the broth, and the clothes.
Maybe it was the very dollar that paid for the dolly.
Perhaps my dollar went to Paris sometime in the
year 1918.
Out in the mud and smoke sixty miles away, one of
my American brothers in khaki brown flings up his
arms and falls in a crooked heap. He has been shot in
the leg. His comrades rush by him. It is their duty to go
forward, to take the German trench. He lies there, in
pain, in fear. Will they find him, or must he die slowly
alone? He thinks, "Even if they find me, I shall never
walk again. I shall be a cripple."
Dusk comes. The American boy is faint, almost
unconscious. Suddenly he hears a low voice, an
American voice. Strong American arms with a cross on
the sleeves lift him to a stretcher. Sturdy American
comrades carry him back to the First Aid Station.
A kind American hand gives him food, and
medicine to dull the pain, and a Red Cross doctor
bandages his wounds.
Presently he is in a motor ambulance with a red
cross on the side. By and by he is in a hospital train
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Selections From I Am an American

with a red cross on every car. At last he lies in bed in a
hospital in Paris, over which the Red Cross flag flies.
He thinks, "I am alive, but I shall never walk again.
My mother will cry."
A great surgeon comes in, a man famous on both
sides of the ocean. He says, "It can be done." And he
performs a delicate operation that makes the American
boy able to walk again. It is an operation that would
have cost a thousand dollars in times of peace.
My American brother in khaki brown sits happily
on the balcony and looks at beautiful Paris, and he
thinks, "I am well! I can walk again. How glad my
mother will be!"
My dollar helped to pay for the stretcher, the food
and the medicine, the ambulance, the train and the
hospital. My dollar helped train the nurse, and all the
people who helped. The great surgeon gave his
services for love of humanity, but he could not have
performed the operation without the things my dollar
helped to buy.
Perhaps my dollar went to Italy.
There was a time in the Great War when the armies
of Italy gave way before treachery and might together,
and the Germans poured into the country, killing and
burning as they came. Later the Italians drove them
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Selections From I Am an American

out again with magnificent bravery. But there were
terrible weeks when all the people who had lived in the
border towns were wanderers on the roads. Mothers
with babies in their arms, boys and girls of eight or
nine, grandmothers and grandfathers, were tramping
the roads like beggars. They had nowhere to sleep,
nothing to eat, and no home to go to anywhere.
In less than a week the American Red Cross was
with them. It brought whole freight trains full of food
and clothes, and things for those who were ill. It
brought money, and best of all, friends. The sad
desolate people were taken care of and helped to make
new homes.
One day an American Red Cross surgeon in a
hospital near the trenches looked at the wounded men
who were lying on stretchers, and saw a German
prisoner badly hurt amongst them.
The surgeon said, "This man is the worst wounded.
I will take him first."
One of the other men said, "He is a German,
doctor. Will you put him before us?"
The Red Cross surgeon said, " It is my duty to help
first those who need help most. The rest of you are not
so seriously wounded."

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Selections From I Am an American

"That's right," the other men spoke up. "Take the
poor chap first."
That was the spirit in which Clara Barton founded
the Red Cross. It has always taken care of friend and
enemy alike. To the Red Cross a wounded man is not
an enemy, but only a suffering human being. The Red
Cross stands for human brotherhood. Its shining red
and white is a symbol of mercy as wide as the world.
This spirit was one of the hopes of the world when
the nations met at The Hague. They all promised to
respect the International Red Cross. Germany joined
the others in this promise.
But again Germany broke her word. Again and
again the German Army fired on stretcher-bearers, and
on hospital ambulances, and on hospitals. The Red
Cross was plain to see, but it gave no protection
against the hatred of Germany.
President Wilson said, speaking about the
American Red Cross in New York, in May, 1918, "One
of the deepest stains that rests upon the reputation of
the Germany Army is that they have not respected the
Red Cross. That goes to the root of the matter."
When Germany broke the law of the Red Cross she
broke a greater law than any International Law, she
violated the principle of human brotherhood.
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Selections From I Am an American

Human brotherhood is the real meaning of
democracy. When we are citizens of the American
Republic we belong to an American brotherhood, a
democracy which gives equal rights to all its members.
As members of the Red Cross, we belong to a universal
brotherhood, a greater democracy which gives equal
rights to all men.
The Red Cross is the flag of a world-wide
democracy, ruled by the spirit of Jesus.
As American children let us all belong to this
democracy and reverence its flag with our own, the
Red Cross with the Stars and Stripes.

71

Our Ideals
We know that America is the richest country in the
world. She is richest of all in her children. Her mines
of gold and iron and coal are not so valuable as the
wise and brave men who have carried our country to
safety from the time of the colonists to this day. Her
fields of cotton, wheat and fruit are not worth so much
as the wise and brave women who have done their part
side by side with the men. Her glorious beauty of the
land from east to west is not so fair as the shining ideals
kept alive in millions of children.
What are these ideals?
They are the ideals of Washington and Lincoln, of
our Army, our Navy, our Red Cross. Our ideal is to
speak and act the truth, as persons and as a nation; to
fear no man, but to fear to do evil; to protect our own
freedom and to give it to all other men everywhere; to
be wise and strong, and to use our wisdom and
strength, not in selfishness, but in service.
We want all American children to have good health,
good sense, good-will. We want them to know the

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Selections From I Am an American

spirit of true democracy, the spirit that was born in our
dear country, and is protected by our sacred flag.
As American children, let us understand and
remember how great is our inheritance, and how
sincerely we must try to be worthy of our country.
I am an American.
The faith of America is faith in God and man. She
believes in brotherhood and opportunity. She believes
in justice and mercy. America has received from all
races. She gives to all races. One bond binds all races
together in her citizenship. It is the bond of loyalty.
To be an American is to love America; to believe in
America; to serve America. To be an American is to
live by the American ideals of freedom, honor, and
service.
I thank God for the privilege of being a child of
America. I pray that I may be worthy of the privilege.
With gratitude and high purpose, for service with the
heart, hand, and brain,
â&#x20AC;&#x153;I AM AN AMERICAN.â&#x20AC;?

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The Belgians

76

King Albert - Belgium’s Leader*
Lover of His People
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! sounded the big guns of
the city of Brussels. It was the evening of the eighth day
of April, 1875.
Every one stopped to listen – rich folks and poor
folks, big folks and little folks – to the booming of the
guns. It told them something very interesting had
happened that a child had just been born to the royal
family of Belgium. Moreover, as they soon learned, the
tiny newcomer was a prince, the second nephew of
their King, Leopold II.
Of course, the good parents of little Albert Leopold
Marie Meinrad, for so he was called, were made very
happy by his coming. Albert's father, the brother of the
King, was the Count of Flanders and a tender,
kind-hearted man who loved learning. His books were
so precious to him that he spent a large part of each
day in his library. In this library a whole mile of shelves
was used to hold his treasures!
* From Leaders to Liberty by Mary Wade
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The Belgians

Albert's mother took delight in all beautiful things
â&#x20AC;&#x201C; music and fine paintings and good books, as well as
the lovely sights Dame Nature could show her in the
ever-moving waters of the sea, in the rich Belgian
meadows in which tall grasses and dainty wild flowers
nodded cheerily, in the glorious sunsets, and in the
blue sky with its ever-changing cloud-children.
At first the Count had lived with his Countess in a
wing of King Leopold's palace. Afterwards, they moved
into a home specially fitted up for them; and here, in
the Palace of the Rue de la Regence, their children
were born. First came Prince Baudoin; then twin
princesses, one of whom soon died; after that, the
Princess Josephine; and last of all, the little son who
would some day be called by his people, "Our Soldier
King, Albert the Brave."
But this is getting ahead of our story.
Albert was a happy boy, but so quiet that at first
people did not notice him very much. He studied his
lessons faithfully. He also spent much time in finding
things out for himself, as he was interested in
everything he saw. There were the railway trains with
the wonderful engines that made them move so swiftly.
There were the steamboats speeding along the
seacoast. There were all sorts of machines with strange
workings. Altogether, the world appeared a delightful
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puzzle to the seemingly quiet child with the active
mind.
Many a story did the little prince hear of what had
happened in the long-ago to his country. There was the
famous Battle of the Golden Spurs; there was the Siege
of Liege, when six hundred brave men gave their lives
to save the city from the outrages of Charles the Bold
of Burgundy; there was the tale of the noble citizens
who fought Prince Ferdinand of Holland in the streets
of the city of Brussels. Never had the Belgians been
willing to be slaves.
When the young prince thought of this his fair
cheeks must have flushed and his kind blue eyes
sparkled.
"They never will be slaves," he must also have
thought with pride.
Though the boy's father spent much time with his
books, yet he and his beautiful wife gave two hours of
each day to their children. They felt that the best of
nurses and teachers could not fill their place. They
watched Albert's studies and talked with him about his
sports.
Sunday was the best day of the whole week, because
then the good Count and Countess took long walks
with Albert and his brother and sister. Sometimes they
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The Belgians

wandered through the lovely parks of Brussels.
Sometimes they went out into the country nearby,
where they met many other children, both rich and
poor, also out for a holiday walk with their parents.
Then, when dinner time drew near, the young
prince went with his family to the King's palace to dine
with him and the Queen Marie Henriette. Many other
times also the boy went to the grand palace. Often he
was allowed to join other guests who had been invited
there to listen to the music the Queen played on her
gilded harp and to hear the singing of the great General
Brunell.
Prince Albert did not stay in Brussels all the year
round, because he had several other beautiful homes.
One of these was among the noble Ardennes
Mountains. Another was in the country at Hasli-Horn.
A third was at the Chateau of Les Amerois, where the
lad spent six joyous weeks every summer.
Such a big company as there was in the household
during this summer holiday! Besides Albert's own
family there were uncles and aunts and cousins in
plenty. Among the guests were the Queens of Portugal
and of Saxony, and there were princes, too, besides
Albert and his brother Baudoin. The ways of royalty
were largely set aside during this vacation time, and the

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older folks joined in the games of the little ones. There
was much fun and frolicking.
The fresh air blew freely about the Chateau because
it stood on a high hill above the old, old town of
Bouillon. Albert could look down from this summer
home on a river winding far below â&#x20AC;&#x201C; then off to distant
hills covered with tall pine trees. If he should climb to
the summit of a certain hill in the distance he could see
the coast of France, his country's neighbor. Belgium
was only a tiny country, after all. But the spirit of her
people made her seem strong and big to the little
prince who loved and admired her.
The Chateau was surrounded by a wide, beautiful
park where the children played to their hearts' content.
A chapel had been built here, where the children
worshiped with their parents. In its stained-glass
windows Albert could look at the pictures of the
patron saints of his family. Among these was Saint
Albert whose name he bore.
The park was full of delightful surprises. There were
gardens and lovely groves in whose cool shade Albert
could play with comfort on the hottest summer days.
There were greenhouses filled with rare plants, and
streams singing merrily as they leaped down over the
rocks on the hillside. The park was free to any who
might wish to enter. As the royal children frolicked
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The Belgians

about, they often looked up to see the poorest people
of the neighboring country making their way along the
paths to the Chateau. No doubt they were coming to
ask help of the noble Count and Countess. Perhaps
they needed money to pay their rent. Perhaps their
little ones were sick and suffering. Never were they
refused help. But some of these people were too old to
climb up the hillside, or were too shy or proud to ask
help. Albert's parents hunted them out and carried
them gifts of what they most needed.
There was a letter box at the Chateau unlike any of
which you may have heard. It stood ready to receive
the letters of little children who felt free to ask help of
Albert's parents and knew this help would not be
refused. Thousands of such letters were written and
answered during Albert's childhood and youth.
Festivals were held at Les Amerois during the
summer vacation. The people in the village below were
invited to these, and great was the frolicking at such
times. There were games and feasting; and songs were
sung by the village children dressed in their holiday
clothes. And there were lotteries in which every one
drew a prize!
The servants at the Chateau had their special
holidays when the Count and Countess, with their
royal guests, shared their games in the big outdoors.
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Merry indeed were those summers when Albert was a
boy at Les Amerois.
Though Albert had delightful vacations in which he
could be as idle as he wished, there were months in
which he studied hard. There was English to learn,
besides French and other languages. There were the
great writers with whom he must become well
acquainted; there were lessons in philosophy and
religion to be mastered.
Albert was not content, however, with the studies
his parents chose for him. He wished besides to
understand the workings of the great inventions of the
world. So, through his own desire, he studied
engineering.
In course of time he even acted as the engineer of a
railway train to be sure he knew just how to drive it
through the country. He also learned to drive an
automobile so well that he could travel over the roads
with the speed of the wind, without the slightest
accident ever befalling him.
When Albert was scarcely sixteen years old a black
cloud swept over his happy home. He was taken quite
ill with a dangerous kind of catarrh. His two sisters
caught the disease.

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The Belgians

Fortunately both of them got well, but a great
sorrow was at hand. Prince Baudoin, catching the
disease last, became very ill, and four days afterwards
the wisest physicians in the land said, " We have done
all we can. The young prince is dying." Greatly did the
loving parents grieve over the loss of this older son.
The whole country grieved with them. It was not an
ordinary loss, because all had looked upon Prince
Baudoin as the next king of Belgium. King Leopold's
only son had died many years ago, so this oldest
nephew would be the heir to his kingdom.
But now that Baudoin was dead, who would take
his place? Who, indeed, but his young brother, the shy,
quiet Albert? Was the young prince puffed up by the
thought of his being a king by-and-by? Not at all! He
must study all the harder now. He must learn all he
could of the art of war, so that, if his country were ever
in danger, he might be able to defend her. He must get
acquainted with the ways of his people, the poor
workingmen as well as the rich lords, so he would
know best how to govern them.
"He had better start on his military training at
once," decided Albert's parents; and his uncle, the
King, agreed with them. So, one day soon afterwards,
the tall, thin, awkward youth, with the color coming

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and going in his cheeks, went with the King to the
Belgian Military School at Brussels.
The King was a grand-looking man. Standing
before the teachers and students, he introduced his
nephew with lively words. Now and then he "poked
fun," as we say, at his nephew, hoping in this way to
make the students feel at ease with him and forget that
he was to be their future ruler. Of course, the young
military students laughed at these sallies, and Albert
blushed.
After the King had gone away, however, the
students felt shy about treating the prince like one of
themselves. They were, mostly, fellows of middle-class
families. Little did they know of the ways of royal
people. And here was the future king of their country
set down in their midst! How could they help feeling
shy at first?
Before long, however, Albert made them
understand that he wished them to treat him like any
other of their mates. Yes, in playtime he was even
willing to be a laughingstock; so many a joke was
played on him, and he was given a nickname which his
school friends remember and smile over to this day.
The uniform he wore was the same as theirs. He ate
the same food as they did. His parents allowed him
only a small amount of spending money. No doubt he
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The Belgians

often wished he had more, because he was a generous
youth. Before long every one in the school had come to
like the young prince.
His teachers were proud of him because he did so
well in his studies and acted in all ways as a true
gentleman should.
"There is much yet to learn before I am fitted to be
a king," the young prince decided when he had finished
his course at the military school and his later training
in the army.
He felt, you see, that he must know everything
possible that would help him in governing a kingdom
and in dealing with other countries.
Besides, there were many people in Belgium who
were very poor. Albert's heart was full of pity for them
and the wish to help them. Had not his father and
mother always worked for the poor? He, too, must
help them, not only now in a small way, but by and by
when he should have riches of his own and the power
of a king.
In order to learn everything possible along different
lines Prince Albert drew about him the leading men of
his country: the wisest generals versed in war; men
who had traveled and seen much of the world; men
who were learned in books; and those who had studied
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the best ways of improving the conditions of the
people.
But it was not enough for the young prince to hear
from others about the ways of his own and other
countries. He must see things for himself. So, after his
training in the army was finished, he set out on travels
to different parts of the world.
One of the first places he visited was the United
States of America. He felt sure he could learn much in
this land of ours. Consequently, when he was
twenty-four years old, he sailed across the Atlantic to
find out all he could about the people he already
admired very much.
There was no pomp or show in his coming. He
would not allow it.
"I cannot go about freely if every one is looking at
me as the future King of Belgium," he had decided. No,
he wished the Americans to think of him only as the
nephew of Leopold II; fully enough honor would be
given him in that light, he was sure. So he went freely
about the country, now stopping in one place, now in
another. Wherever he went, people said, "What a
kindly young man and what a gentle man! Why, he is
as quiet and simple in his manners as any plain citizen
of this United States."

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The Belgians

"How interested he is in whatever we can show
him!" the thoughtful said to each other. They were
pleased because the young prince was eager to learn,
and this cannot be said of as many people as we might
think.
Prince Albert was entertained in many beautiful
homes. He went to the White House where the
President and the "Leading Lady of the Land" made
him most welcome. He learned how the head of the
American Government lived and attended to his
duties, and how Congress made laws and carried them
out.
All these things were interesting. But probably the
royal guest cared most to see what Americans had been
doing to make their country powerful. So he traveled
through the West with Mr. James J. Hill, one of the
greatest railroad men in the world. He saw for himself
what Mr. Hill had done in opening up vast stretches of
country where people could live with comfort and
keep in touch with other people many thousands of
miles away.
"I must also see the workings of some of America's
great factories," Prince Albert had decided.
Accordingly, he visited the biggest mills in
Massachusetts where cloth was woven with the
greatest skill. He went to the Baldwin Locomotive
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King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

Works in Pennsylvania, where his keen blue eyes
watched the building of engines that would draw
millions of people on their journeys across the
continent.
The young traveler was not satisfied till he had gone
down into some coal mines. It was a "great lark," as
boys would say, to dress himself as a miner and
descend into the darkness, and he enjoyed it greatly. As
he went in and out among the grimy workers, probably
few of them knew that this earnest young fellow
watching them at their work would in a few more years
be a king. Nor did any one dream in those days that he
would sometime be more than king â&#x20AC;&#x201C; far more,
because the title is not to be compared with that of
hero one of the greatest heroes, moreover, the world
has ever known.
When Prince Albert returned to Belgium he was
not ready to settle down because there were still many
other countries he wished to visit.
Accordingly, the very next year he made a trip to
Germany. Among other places he stopped in the
beautiful city of Munich where he visited the duke,
Charles Theodore. This duke was a very good man
who had become famous as a physician and had given
a great deal of time to the study of the eyes. He used
his knowledge not to gain riches, but to help any
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The Belgians

people, no matter how poor they were, whose eyes
were in need of help.
Now this kind-hearted duke had lovely daughters
who had been trained in hospitals so that they might
help him in his work. One of these was the Duchess
Elizabeth, a young girl with the sweetest of smiles, the
simplest of manners, and a loving heart for those who
were poor or suffering.
Can you not guess what happened when Prince
Albert, who was himself the friend of all poor and
unhappy people, met the Duchess Elizabeth? He fell in
love with her, of course. And she returned his love very
quickly.
Thus it came to pass that the news soon reached
Belgium that the prince's heart had been won by the
fair young Elizabeth of Bavaria. Great was the rejoicing
in both countries.
A few months afterwards â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it was on Tuesday, the
second day of October, 1900 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the city of Munich was
all astir. To begin with, it was the day set apart for the
great national feast. But this was not alone the reason
why the streets were filled with crowds of happy and
excited people in holiday dress. The wedding of the
loved duchess to the future king of Belgium was to take
place on this holiday, and all were waiting and
watching for a sight of the happy pair.
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On Monday, the day before the wedding took
place, the royal guest from Belgium appeared publicly
before the eyes of the Bavarians for the first time. The
city gave itself up to merriment, and a grand dinner
was served in the palace. That evening a great
Betrothal Feast was spread for the people before the
palace-home of the fair Elizabeth. The thirty singing
societies of Munich gathered there, each singer
holding a lighted torch. A military band played while
they sang. As their voices rang out through the soft
evening air, the watching crowds saw the balcony of
the palace become suddenly radiant with light. There,
in the center, were two figures â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the Duchess Elizabeth
and her lover, Prince Albert. They were most beautiful,
the tall, noble youth and the delicate maiden beside
him. He was dressed in the uniform of his regiment,
and on his breast was the cordon of St. Hubert, lately
given him by the Regent of Bavaria. She who was next
day to be his bride was fair to look upon. Her cheeks
were flushed with happiness; her rich brown hair was
crowned with diamonds. An ermine mantle was
wrapped about her shoulders. For a single moment she
threw it off and showed herself in a silken gown heavily
embroidered with flowers.
Then the music stopped, and a chosen speaker
uttered words of congratulation to the young couple
on the balcony.
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The speaker of the evening ended with these
words: "May our dear princely child who is quitting the
place where her infancy has been passed love her new
country with unbounded affection; but may she not
forget the leaves of our forests, the verdure of our
mountains, our May days and the fidelity of our
hearts."
On the day following this happy evening the
wedding was celebrated in grand style at the Royal
Palace. The guests entered through long files of
archers, each one of whom was dressed in the
charming costume of long-ago. When the wedding
mass had been sung, and the last words of the
ceremony had been spoken, the Archbishop, looking
very fine in his robes of state, spoke with deep feeling.
He said: "Today the hearts of the Bavarian people beat
in unison with those of the Belgian people."
Three days afterwards â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it was the fifth day of
October â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Prince Albert reached Brussels with his
bride. The railroad station when they arrived was
surrounded by countless flags waving from tall masts.
There were the flags of Belgium, of Bavaria, of France,
of Germany. In this way the people were trying to
show their good feeling for their neighboring
countries, as well as their love for their own.

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As Prince Albert and his bride rode homeward from
the station they were surrounded by joyous crowds.
From the balconies along the way flowers were flung
and scattered beneath the feet of the horses. Surely a
young couple never had a more royal welcome than
this!
Not long afterwards the good prince and his bride
started out on what is often called "The Grand Tour."
They went on a journey around the world, visiting
many places, seeing new sights, meeting strange
people.
When they returned, they were both greeted so
gladly that it was plain the people loved their new
princess as they did her husband. How could they help
it? From the moment she had come to them from her
Bavarian home she had shown herself the friend of all.
She was particularly full of love and sympathy for
the poor and needy, and she was ever ready to help
them. How dear all little children were to her! Not
only did she give her money gladly to the poor and
starving, but she was ever ready to share herself with
them.
One day – it was soon after she had entered
Brussels – she visited a poor woman who was lying ill.

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"Oh, that I might hear some music!" the sick
woman said to her royal guest.
What do you suppose the princess did after hearing
the wish? The very next time she visited that sick
woman she carried her violin with her, and sitting
beside her bed, played many a soft and restful air.
In Munich, as you will remember, she had taken a
course of training in the hospital and had studied
under her father. She still put her knowledge to good
use. As she went about among the sick, she was able to
cure many of their ills. She taught many a mother how
to take care of her babies.
As time went by she set up hospitals in Brussels and
other places in Belgium where sick, needy people
could get care and medicine without cost. When
summer came and the children of the poor were
suffering from the heat and bad air of the city, she sent
groups of them to the seashore for a holiday.
She even spread feasts in the palace, to which she
invited these little folks with their mothers. And when
they went away she placed gifts of good things in their
hands to carry home with them. Surely Prince Albert,
with his own love for the poor and desire to help them,
had chosen his wife well.

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The Princess Elizabeth won the friendship not only
of those who were in need, but of the rich and learned.
She was simple in her manners. She loved music and
good books deeply. She could talk wisely. She could
add to others' pleasure by herself playing exquisite
music on her violin. Wherever she went there were
smiles and joyous greetings for the wife of the future
King of Belgium.
On a beautiful Sunday in November, 1901, a great
thing happened in Prince Albert's happy palace-home.
It was the birth of his first child.
The roar of cannon could be heard throughout
Brussels. One, two, three! sounded the big guns â&#x20AC;&#x201C; then
on and on they boomed, till the listening citizens
counted the number telling that a young prince had
been born to the future King.
There was great excitement in Brussels that night.
In every home, big and little, families met together to
give toasts and feasts in honor of the little princeling.
There would be great doings now! Many gifts would
be given by the royal parents; many honors would be
bestowed on worthy people; many pardons would be
granted to wrong-doers.
Outside the palace a bulletin was posted, telling of
the baby's birth, and a register was set up in the big hall
inside, where all visitors might write their names.
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Crowds of people, both rich and poor, hurried to
the palace to sign this register. Thousands of letters
were placed in the big letter box, each one bringing
Prince Albert congratulations on his having a son.
You may be sure that any poor people in Brussels
who were fortunate enough to have sons born on that
day made haste to call their babies Leopold, after the
young prince. Of course, they also wrote to the royal
child's father, telling what they had done.
They quickly received answers of congratulations.
Not only these, but rich gifts were sent them, and
always, among the gifts, were gold watches for the
young prince's namesakes.
When Prince Leopold was not quite two years old,
his brother Charles was born; and after him, in 1906,
came a little sister with golden hair and laughing eyes,
the Princess Marie Jose.
Great was the care bestowed upon these royal
babies. The brightest and most sunny rooms in the
palace were given up to them; the best possible nurses
were chosen; but always their dear mother and father
watched over them with tenderest care. It was told that
Princess Elizabeth even wore special garments that
would be sure to be free from germs when she went
into the nursery. It was also said that when the
beautiful grandmother, the Duchess of Flanders,
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visited the palace, she was cautioned to remove her
furs before taking the precious children in her arms.
On pleasant days the babies went riding in open
carriages through the streets of Brussels. As they grew
older they went on outings in the parks and woods
about the city to gather flowers and frolic among other
children. Sometimes they could be seen standing
before shop windows filled with beautiful toys. Then
their eyes shone with as much wonder and delight as
those of little folk of poor families.
These royal children not only studied and played
and went on long pleasure rides, but they did many
other things also.
"They must see what the people are doing," their
parents had decided. So they visited the hospitals
where the sick were cared for; they were taken into the
homes of the poor as well as the mansions of the rich;
they watched the workers in mills and factories; they
went into shipyards to see the big ships about to sail for
other lands.
Ah! but when the glorious holiday time came, how
happy were the prince and princess in taking their
children to the mountains and the seashore!
Ostend, the largest of the Belgian watering places,
was the favorite one of all. It seemed beautiful to
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Prince Albert in winter storms, as well as in summer
sunshine. Here he spent much time with his family,
living in a pretty, quiet villa in the simplest way. He
loved his fisher folk and their children; and often in the
early morning he walked alone to the big sandy
mounds along the shore where they lived in tiny
cottages.
Sometimes the prince went with the rough, tanned
men on their fishing trips. Away they would sail
through the waves in the early morning wind. Then, on
the turn of the tide, they would come back to shore
with nets heavy with fish. No time must be lost now.
The nets must be emptied, and panniers must be filled
with the fresh fish and loaded on the backs of donkeys
to be carried to town and sold.
Prince Albert was fond of climbing among the
mountains; consequently many a holiday trip was
taken among their picturesque slopes. He also enjoyed
riding in his automobile and often drove it himself. He
practiced shooting with rifle and shotgun. He took
long walks in the country and by the seashore. He
spent many hours in study. And always he rose early in
the morning â&#x20AC;&#x201C; usually before seven o'clock because
there were so many things he wished to do before the
day should end.

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After he returned from his voyage around the world
with the Princess Elizabeth he made many other
journeys. He traveled from one part of Great Britain to
another to learn how ships were built there, and how
the shipbuilders and the fishermen lived.
At such times he was so sensible that he thought: "If
I go about with the pomp of a king I cannot learn as
much as if I appear like any ordinary man.''
So, it is said, he sometimes pretended he was
merely a reporter trying to find out things to print in
the newspapers.
Indeed, as the years passed by, and even after the
prince became Belgium's king, he and his dear wife
often made pleasure trips over to London without any
outward show of royalty. They would spend a day or
two, perhaps, at some small hotel, where the people
might not guess who they were. In the evening they
would attend the theater or opera in the same quiet
way. Indeed, so little did they let themselves be known,
that an automobile dealer sold King Albert two
automobiles and went to lunch with him several times
without guessing he was the ruler of Belgium!
Once the king had a good deal of fun at one of
London's principal stores. After he had made a
purchase the dealer asked his name so that he might
send the goods to him.
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"Albert," was the answer.
"Albert what?" asked the salesman.
"King," was the ready reply.
And so, when the bundle went on its way, it was
addressed to "Albert King, Esquire." How the good
ruler and his wife must have laughed over the little joke
when the package was delivered!
While Albert was still a prince he traveled all over
Europe, visiting the most important kings and queens
and having many honors paid him.
There was one place far from Europe which he was
anxious to explore. This was the large Belgian colony
in Africa. Its people were negroes, and they were
governed by white men sent from Belgium. The
natives of this Congo colony were wild for the most
part, so they knew little of the ways of white people.
Now there was much talk in the outside world
about the manner in which these negroes were ruled.
It was said that they were treated unfairly and often
with great cruelty.
"If I am some day to be King of Belgium," Albert
decided, "I should know everything possible about the
Congo country. But I cannot know all unless I go there
and see things for myself."

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King Leopold was not willing at first that his
nephew should make this long journey. However, after
a while, he gave his consent, and the prince set sail for
Africa. The people of Belgium were delighted. They
said to each other: "If there is wrongdoing in the
Congo, such a good, wise prince as Albert will find it
out and make everything right when he becomes
King."
They were not to be disappointed. Albert started
out on his trip in company with a few friends to give
him help and advice in case of need.
No sooner had he reached the Congo State than he
began to explore the country. He traveled north and
south, east and west for eighty-two days. Sometimes he
went on his bicycle, sometimes in boats, sometimes on
foot.
There were often wide stretches of tangled forests
through which he had to fight his way. He walked at
least fifteen hundred miles through country too rough
for riding of any kind and where the air was stifling
from dampness and great heat. Mosquitoes and other
pests must have annoyed him constantly. Yet he
pressed on always brave and smiling. He was never too
tired or busy to give cheering words to the few white
women who lived in the settlements. Even the savage
natives admired him.
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"He is a great man," they said to each other, and
they gave him the name, "He, the Tall Man, Breaker of
Stones."
The news spread through the wildest places that a
great white prince with a beautiful smile had come to
visit the country; and from all directions black men and
women and children came flocking to see him.
During those days many a negro chief came to
Prince Albert to tell his wrongs and ask for help. Kind
and wise words were sure to be the answer. Many a gift
was left behind the royal visitor when he went back to
Belgium. The black people never forgot him, and to
this day they tell their children about the visit of the
greatest and kindest chief in the world.
The Princess Elizabeth did not wait in Belgium for
her husband's return but started out to meet him on
his way home.
When she reached the island of Teneriffe the big
ship which was bringing Prince Albert from Africa was
not far distant from the island. Entering a steam
launch, she sailed out to her husband's steamer as it
neared port; and as the launch came alongside, she ran
up the ladder which had been flung down its side and
was speedily held fast in the tall prince's arms. Always
these two have been lovers since they first met on that
happy day in Munich.
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The sixteenth of August, 1909, was a great day for
the city of Antwerp, the principal port of Belgium.
Flags were waving on the public buildings and houses,
and on the ships in the harbor. Crowds of people in
holiday dress filled the streets, all on their way to the
wharf where a big steamer was expected to arrive every
minute. Why were the people so excited?
Why, indeed, except that the beloved Prince Albert
would be on this steamer, coming home from his visit
to the Congo? Every one felt sure that from now on the
colony in Africa would bring more honor and greater
riches to Belgium.
A canopy had been set up on the wharf, and here
dukes and duchesses, and princes and princesses
watched for the coming of the ship. Of course Prince
Albert's little sons and daughter were there, and his
dear mother too. His father could not be in her
company, however, because he had died a few years
before.
After the prince landed, the burgomaster, who
corresponds to the mayor of an American city, made a
speech in which he told him of his people's love and
trust. The young man thanked him and all Antwerp.
He spoke of what he had seen in the vast country of the
Congo, and of his hopes of what it would become
under wise government.
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For a few months after the glad homecoming
everything went quietly in Belgium. Then, in
December, King Leopold died, after being ill only a
short time.
Six days afterwards Prince Albert rode forth from
his Chateau in the suburbs of Brussels to be crowned
in the Capital. As the royal procession made its way
out through the gates of the Chateau, bands played the
"Brabanconne," the national anthem of Belgium, and
the blare of many trumpets could be heard. But hark!
better and more beautiful than all the music to the ears
of the new ruler were the shouts of devoted people.
"Long live the King! Long live Albert!" they cried
again and again with deep love in their voices.
First came a gala carriage drawn by six horses,
containing the Queen and her two sons. But little
Marie Jose was not with them.
"Such a lively three-year-old tot is too active and
would get tired too quickly to go in the procession with
us," thought her wise mother. "She had better be with
her grandmother in the city. From there she can watch
for us when we enter Brussels."
After the carriage of the Queen came several others,
in which rode the King's mother and sisters and other
royal people.
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Then the King himself came in sight, riding on
horseback with the officers of his staff about him, and
dressed in the uniform of a general. Behind him rode
other royal persons, one of them being the man who
would afterwards prove a black traitor to friendship,
and the enemy of truth and justice. It was William
Hohenzollern of Germany.
On moved the procession to the blare of trumpets,
while the cheers of welcoming people, gathered on
either side, filled the air. It entered the city, and passed
through the gaily decorated streets. It reached the
mansion where little Marie Jose was watching with her
grandmother and friends.
"Long live the King!" the people were shouting, as
a little girl with shining eyes and curly yellow hair
joined in the cheers. She waved her hands, first one,
then the other, then both, holding up as she did so a
big slice of bread she had just begun to eat!
Later on that day, in the Palace of Parliament, King
Albert made a solemn vow to uphold the Belgian
Constitution and to defend the territory of his country.
Little did he dream as he spoke those words how he
must work and suffer by and by in a fearful struggle to
carry on that defense.
Before the ceremonies of the coronation were over
King Albert made a speech to his people. He told them
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what he hoped to do for their good. Many of his
listeners' eyes grew dim when he said with deep
feeling, "May God help me to fulfil this mission."
There was much work ahead for the new ruler.
There were many troublesome questions about the
government of the Congo colony, as well as of Belgium
itself, which he had to settle. He began at once to
devote money that was rightfully his to making the
natives of the Congo healthier and wiser. He saw, for
one thing, that good physicians were sent there to treat
the diseases of the people.
Then, too, King Albert set to work to see that his
country was better defended. His thoughtful eyes had
been looking out over Europe. They saw faint clouds
of war floating where most people thought was a clear
sky.
"My country must have a stronger army," he said to
himself, and he did much to better it.
He was also interested in the mines of Belgium. He
studied machinery; he wanted to understand
everything that was being made in the factories. He
showed himself the friend and helper of artists and
writers and musicians. In every way possible he wished
his kingdom to be not only rich and prosperous, but
wise and happy.

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While he worked hard, he played hard, too, so as to
keep well and strong. He practiced boxing and fencing.
He played golf. He sailed his yacht and drove his
motor car. He climbed some of the highest mountains
of the Alps.
Do you wonder that his people loved this wise king
who held the poor as well as the rich in his big, kind
heart? Wherever he went they watched him with pride
and delight. Such a straight, tall figure! Such a
young-looking, handsome face! As his subjects looked
at him, ever the words rose to their lips, "Long live our
noble ruler!"
The Queen was not less idle than her husband.
While the King was busy with his own duties, she gave
thoughtful care to the little sons and daughter. But this
was not all. She spent much time among the poor and
the sick. She carried food and clothing to the needy. In
winter she set up stands where those who had little or
no money could get coal and blankets and hot soup.
"Our good little Queen!" her people called her.
They almost worshiped her.
"Suppose she dies," thought many a sufferer. "How
sad I should be then!"
Indeed, Queen Elizabeth looked so delicate that her
subjects were afraid they would lose her. They did not
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understand what a strong will guided her slight girlish
body, nor could they dream how much that will would
some day carry her through.
Busy, happy months went by till the year 1914
came round. It began very merrily for Belgium, and
many were the grand doings for her people. The Lord
Mayor of London came to visit Brussels. As he rode to
the palace, great crowds turned out to see him.
Dressed in rich robes and with golden chains hanging
about him, he sat back in his magnificent coach, with
his attendants on either hand. The citizens of Brussels
felt as if they were looking upon the pomp of "London
town" of centuries ago.
Many dinner parties were given that winter and
spring in the finest mansions of the city. Flowers were
plentiful at the feasts, and delicate china and silver, and
rich viands. All the guests talked with smiling faces.
What could there be to fear, they thought, when
Belgium was prospering under her good king?
Then there was the ball at the Royal Palace. Many
officers were there in cherry-red trousers and coats
trimmed with gold lace. The dresses of the ladies were
wondrous in their beauty. No fairer sight was there,
however, than that of the dainty Queen, with the tall
King beside her in a black evening suit, and with his
arm in a sling from a fall he had just had from a horse.
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Many were the theater parties and operas given in
Brussels in that winter of 1914. Afterwards, in the
beautiful month of May, when flowers were blooming
everywhere, the Queen had a garden party in the
conservatories of the summer palace at Laeken. Never
would those who were present forget the beauty
around them â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the tall palms, the fragrant blossoms;
and best of all, the sweet face of Queen Elizabeth
smiling among them.
Soon afterwards came another great event: the
Danish King and Queen came on a visit to Albert and
Elizabeth of Belgium. Of course there was a grand
reception at the palace, but afterwards there was a sight
which the poorest people in the kingdom could enjoy.
It was the procession of six royal coaches moving
around the big square on which the palace faced. In
these coaches rode kings and queens, princes and
princesses, lords and ladies, all richly dressed.
Even when hot July arrived there was another
festival for the country. This took place on the
twenty-first of the month, the Belgian national holiday.
Brussels was decorated with flags and crowds of happy
people filled the streets. A special service was held in
the old church of St. Gudule in honor of the founding
of the kingdom. The greatest people of the land were
present â&#x20AC;&#x201C; judges in scarlet robes; solemn-looking
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priests and bishops; officers in grand uniforms. A
crimson carpet stretched to the altar. On either side of
this carpet stood rows of tall soldiers dressed in bear
skins.
All at once the drums began to roll; the trumpets
sounded; the organ pealed forth and the priests
chanted. And down between the rows of soldiers
towards the altar came the King and Queen and their
three children, with their attendants. The King wore
his general's uniform; the Queen was richly clad and
looked wondrously fair. The two young princes,
Leopold and Charles, both with serious faces, were
dressed in gray satin suits with broad white collars.
Little Marie Jose, with bright, mischievous eyes, was
sweet and lovely as always. The sight of the happy
royal family in the softly lighted church was often to be
remembered afterwards by those who looked upon
them that morning.
In the afternoon thousands of people went out into
the country to watch a contest between French and
Belgian airplanes.
Loud cheers rang forth as the planes soared high
overhead, then dipped and dived and flew in spiral
courses. Many were the "stunts" performed by the
daring aviators.

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The happy day came to an end. King Albert went
away with his family to continue a vacation on which
he had lately started. The city of Brussels settled down
to its summer's sleep in the heat of the July sun.
Then, suddenly, on the quiet peaceful land, burst
the most terrible storm men have ever known. King
Albert had seen rightly during the last years when he
thought he discerned faint clouds of war in the sky of
Europe. Something had now happened to mass those
clouds into a mighty curtain of blackness. And out
from it flames of fire were leaping that were to lay
waste beautiful lands and destroy the lives of millions
of innocent men, women and children. Poor little
Belgium, so happy and contented! She must be the
first to suffer and oh, so terribly!
One morning in late July her boys and girls were
playing merrily in their gardens. But the next day how
different all seemed! The same children were listening
to a story the older folks were telling: the Crown
Prince of Austria had been killed by a down- trodden
subject. It looked as if war were to follow â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a war that
the people did not yet see was to draw many countries
into its whirlpool.
Germany had determined that this war must be.
She had long been getting ready for it and was glad to
have an excuse for fighting. With her strong armies
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could she not easily gain great riches and new
possessions from other nations who were not prepared
to fight? First of all, she must enter France and gain
Paris. From there she would move on to England and
bring that mighty empire to her feet.
What would be the easiest way for the German
armies to enter France? Through Belgium, of course.
Then no mountains or fortresses would block her path.
But Germany had long since signed a paper,
together with France and England and the other great
powers, stating that Belgium should be held as a
neutral country by these larger and more powerful
ones. Their soldiers should not be free to enter
Belgium without her permission. In case of trouble
between them, she should not be disturbed. Was
Germany to keep her promise? We all know the
answer.
King Albert, away from the capital on his vacation,
watched the storm clouds gather with a sad heart.
"I must hurry back to Brussels," he decided. "This is
no time to rest and play. There is much for me to do at
once."
Shortly afterwards the capital of Belgium was alive
with excited people. Flags waved everywhere â&#x20AC;&#x201C; those
of England and France and the United States and of
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other friendly countries, as well as the red, yellow and
black flag of Belgium. Automobiles went flying
through the streets. Boy Scouts hurried about, doing
important errands. Crowds gathered on the sidewalks
to cheer the royal family as it rode past. Before now
there had been citizens who believed that kings and
queens should no longer be permitted in the world.
But that time had gone by. There was only one feeling
– love for King Albert and his family, and the wish to
stand by this wise ruler, what-ever the danger might be.
However, every one still hoped that all would yet go
well.
The second day of August came – Sunday. At five
o'clock word was brought to the King that Germany
would not harm the people of Belgium if her soldiers
were allowed to pass through unchecked on their way
to invade France.
"But if you refuse them free passage," she declared,
"we will treat you as an enemy."
What of the solemn promise Germany had made?
"A scrap of paper," her Kaiser called it scornfully.
And what of King Albert? Could he break his own
vow that his country should remain neutral by giving
free passage through Belgium to the German army on
its way to attack France? Impossible.

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There were some of his subjects – not many
however – who would have stood back and let the
German hordes pass on. But the King could not dream
of so doing.
The next evening – it was that of Monday, the
fourth of August – King Albert's answer for his country
was delivered to Germany: Belgium would not break
her agreement; she would resist German invaders.
That same evening the King sent a telegram to King
George of England, asking for help.
A reply came promptly that the aid should be sent.
Word also came from France, on whom Germany had
already declared war, that she too would do all she
could for Belgium in this time of terrible need.
On Tuesday morning the sun shone brightly over
Brussels. The city was dressed as for a gala day. Flags
hung from the windows and balconies of every house.
The streets and doorways were packed with excited
people, watching eagerly for a sight of their loved ruler
and his family when they should ride past on their way
to the House of Parliament.
These people were not gay-spirited, however, as on
holidays. A heavy load was on every heart because war,
black cruel war, threatened this prosperous land.

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Wildly the crowds cheered, and loudly the bands
played as the procession made its way onward to the
Parliament House where the leading people of the
country were gathered, awaiting the coming of the
King and the words that he would speak there.
"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!"
shouted thousands of devoted subjects as she passed
into the Parliament House and seated herself, with her
children around her, on a golden chair near the
tribune.
And now the cry rang out, 'The King! The King!
Long live the King! Long live the King!' as he followed
the Queen into the building. Firmly, quickly he
advanced, his sword clattering as he walked. He took
his stand before the people and prepared to speak. A
hush fell upon the great gathering as he told of his faith
in the Fatherland where he felt that all hearts were
beating as one. Then, turning to the deputies, he asked,
"Are you determined steadfastly to hold intact the
sacred patrimony of our ancestors?"
"Yes, yes!" they cried heartily. "God will be with us!
Long live Belgium!" he replied solemnly.
At these words the people burst into wild shouts.
Tears filled the eyes of many. Handkerchiefs were
waved violently. But no one at that moment seemed

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The Belgians

more earnest than the boy Prince Leopold, whose eyes,
full of love and faith, were bent upon his father.
Two days afterwards the German troops were
crossing the fields of Belgium like a mighty machine of
destruction, and King Albert was on the way to take
command of his army. He would do all he could to
stop the course of the invaders. But his army was small
indeed beside theirs. And they had been long
preparing!
Cheering and giving courage to his soldiers, the
King took his stand at Liege, with his headquarters
near-by.
On came the Huns*, grim and hard of face, cruel in
heart. They looked like moving masses of steel.
Endless seemed the long lines of their carefully trained
troops. They bore with them mighty engines of war.
Could the small army of Belgians hold out long
against them? It would be impossible unless help from
the Allies arrived very soon.
* In WWI, primarily British and American officers used the
word 'Hun' to describe the German Army. Kaiser Wilhelm II
first used the term when he sent his German troops to China
during the Boxer Rebellion (1899-1900) He instructed them
to behave like the Huns of old--". . .let the Germans strike fear
into the hearts, so he'll be feared like the Hun."
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King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

Nobly fought the Belgians. Never did men show
themselves greater heroes. But inch by inch they were
forced to give way, while the needed help did not
arrive.
Again the brave little army took its stand at Namur.
With their loved King to give them courage, the
men fought as valiantly as before. They could not stem
the mighty onrush of the enemy, but they checked it,
while troops from all over England and France were
gathering for the mighty conflict ahead. Yes, they
checked the advance for a few short hours, and that
check saved France from the destruction that surely
would have fallen upon her. King Albert could not
understand at the time what a tremendous thing he
was doing for the whole world in those days at Liege
and Namur, when it seemed to him that he failed.
He saw only that his army must again withdraw â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
this time towards Antwerp. Still gloriously fighting, his
troops made their way over lands that had lately been
rich and beautiful, but were now a barren waste.
Pretty villages lay in ruins. Churches had been
burned. The wrecks of cosy homes covered the
ground. Worse still! Stories were brought to King
Albert's ears of terrible deeds done to men and women
and helpless children living in the villages swept over
by the enemy. Were these German invaders worse than
117

The Belgians

wild animals? It seemed so. The King's heart burned
with horror. There was now stronger reason than ever
to resist the foe as mightily as possible.
His next stand was at Louvain. A few French troops
had now arrived, but their help was not enough to stem
the tide. In a short time the King decided to withdraw
again.
"If we stay here," he thought, "this beautiful city will
be stormed, and its churches and university will be
destroyed."
For the same reason he did not try to defend
Brussels, but led his army to Antwerp, where he
intended to wait till the Allies should come in strong
force to his aid.
He was very sad because he had lost great numbers
of men, but he was not discouraged. It seemed hard,
however, very hard, that the needed help from France
and England was so long in coming.
During the King's stay in Antwerp he had one
comfort, because his dear wife and children had been
able to join him there.
He did not spend many days idly waiting for French
and British troops to arrive. He was soon leading his
own small army into the country round about and
retaking towns that had been seized by the enemy.
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King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

But now the Germans came massing in great
numbers upon Antwerp itself. The city was besieged
on all sides. The air was filled with the booming of the
big guns of the invaders. They seized one fort after
another.
What was the King doing now? Was he remaining
safe with his family inside the palace walls? Indeed, no!
While Queen Elizabeth was busy from morning till
night caring for the wounded, he stood ever at the
front of battle in the midst of danger. Wherever his
men needed him to give them courage, there he went.
"More than once," his soldiers proudly say of him,
"he took the place of a man shot down and went on
with the fighting."
How they loved their devoted King, those men of
Belgium. Whenever their hope nearly died out, they
would cry out to each other, "We must do something
for our King!" The words always gave new strength,
and the fight would go on with fresh spirit. But at last
King Albert saw it was useless to try to hold Antwerp
longer. If his army were to be saved, it must flee.
There was still one way of escape, towards Ostend
by the sea. When once there, Albert's ministers begged
him to sail for England. "Here in Belgium your life is in
danger," they told him. "In England you will be safe."

119

The Belgians

But the King would not think of going. "My place is
with my soldiers." he said simply.
So, with thousands of hungry, ragged troops, he
fled over the borders into France, and his family
followed. He reached it at last, on foot, worn out and
dirty and hungry as his men, and limping from having
been knocked down by a horse as he left Antwerp.
There, in friendly France, for the next four years,
King Albert had to have his seat of government.
Belgium, beautiful, brave Belgium, had been swept
over by the cruel invaders. Only a small sandy strip of
land was left untouched for her rightful ruler to call his
own.
Ah! but the fire of hope still burned in Albert's
heart. Belgium must be freed. If not, he would perish
with her.
Side by side with the armies of the Allies, he fought
on at the head of his troops. He shared their rations.
He carried to them the letters and gifts sent them by
their "home folks." He stood beside them in the mud of
the trenches. He treated them as brothers. He called
them, "My friends."
After a battle was over he would go among his
soldiers to shake them by the hand. You cannot
wonder they were willing to die for him.
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King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

Many a story those now living tell of what he did for
them during the fearful years of the war. "Once," said a
soldier, "the King came and placed himself at my side
in the trench. He took the rifle of a soldier so
exhausted he could not stand, and fired â&#x20AC;&#x201C; just as one of
his own soldiers for an hour and a half."
The man went on to tell that the King did not want
his men to give him honors. He cared only to be
thought of as a true soldier.
One night, so the soldiers say, he was seen sleeping
on the side of the road, too tired to go farther.
He never showed fear. When an officer fell he
would take his place, and he would call to his men like
a loving comrade, "Now, my children, all together!
fire!" Never were the wounded soldiers in the hospitals
weary of praising their King.
While King Albert was fighting with his troops,
Queen Elizabeth was busily working among the poor
and in the hospitals. The tears were ever near the
surface of her tender blue eyes for those about her who
were suffering.
Stories, so dreadful that they could scarce be
believed, kept coming both to the King and to herself.
In their loved Belgium, once so happy, little children
were starving, having their eyes put out, and their
121

The Belgians

hands cut off by the Hun invaders who had taken
possession of the land. Mothers were torn from their
little ones. Old men and women were tortured. Fathers
were dragged from their families by cruel slave drivers
and sent to Germany to work in the mines and
quarries, and even forced to dig trenches from which
their brute masters would fire upon their fellow
Belgians and their Allies.
Fear settled down over the once beautiful fields and
towns. Screams of unhappy women often rang out
through the streets as their husbands were torn from
them. Boys and girls huddled together in cellars,
hoping the enemy would not discover them.
Yet still the sun shone, and the songs of the skylark
and nightingale could be heard. And still King Albert
the Brave smiled at danger and gave courage to his
troops to fight on. He believed, as on that day which
now seemed so long ago, "God is with us," though his
heart was heavy with the sorrows of his people.
Nearly three years went by in which King Albert
struggled on with the Allies against the common
enemy. Black indeed was Belgium's sky when at last a
ray of light shone through â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the United States was to
give her strength in the cause of world freedom. The
clouds parted still more when American troops poured
into France.
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King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

"Victory is coming, coming," sang the King's heart,
which had so long been aching for the sufferings of his
people.
And victory did come in the glorious month of
November, 1918!
Back into Germany moved the army of the Huns,
leaving the wreck of Belgium behind them. Beautiful
cathedrals had been destroyed. Cities had been laid
waste. Villages had been wiped out. Tens of thousands
of brave men had been killed. Women and little
children had been tortured. Yet those who still lived
could again smile because their country was free.
Those who had sought refuge in France came hurrying
back to build new homes and plant fresh gardens.
Little children who had been hiding in ruined
buildings and cellars came out into the sunshine to
laugh and play once more.
Oh, it was a glad time for Belgium and her noble
King and Queen now!
Gladdest day of all was that which saw King Albert
back in Brussels, with the city gone almost mad with
joy. It was half-past ten on the morning of November
nineteen that he entered it with Queen Elizabeth, the
princes Leopold and Charles, and the little Princess
Marie Jose. The air rang with the thunderous cheers of

123

The Belgians

the Belgian people, the pealing of bells, and the blare of
trumpets.
The city was decorated from end to end. Flags of
Belgium and of her Allies waved everywhere. Among
them were some of the red, white, and blue which had
been made by Belgian women while hiding from their
enemy. They had made them out of odd scraps of
cloth when their hearts were overflowing with joy over
the good news that America was sending her troops to
the aid of their unhappy country.
First, the King and his family rode to the Parliament
House, where the burgomaster of the city made a
noble speech of greeting.
Then came a review of Allied troops that formed a
line ten miles in length. Among them marched two
divisions of the Belgian army, war-worn and weary, but
oh, so proud and happy!
As the procession moved on, flowers and tiny flags
came showering down in the King's pathway from the
balconies and house-tops on either side the street, and
from the eager watchers lining the sidewalks.
Thousands upon thousands of devoted subjects, try as
they would, were not able to get near the line of
parade, so dense were the crowds. Glad cheers
sounded through the air like the steady roll of thunder.

124

King Albert - Belgiumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

The day was like midsummer. The sun shone, and
in its bright light airplanes circled about over the heads
of the joyous people. At one place five hundred young
girls were singing the national song of Belgium.
As the royal family came into sight in the
procession, the crowds pressed on excitedly to catch a
sight of Albert, their Soldier- King, the devoted friend
of his people. Some of them stood on chairs or tables
â&#x20AC;&#x201C; whatever they could get to lift them high enough to
make them surer of getting a sight of their King's dear
face.
He rode a magnificent horse, his young sons, also
on horseback, beside him. Calm and noble he looked;
but his face was worn with the care and sorrow of the
past years.
He was happy, however, very happy, because the
sufferings of his country were over, and Belgium was
once more free. As his subjects looked upon him their
hearts swelled with pride. "Before us," they thought, "is
the greatest hero of the greatest war in history."

125

Saving a Soldierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Life*
An interesting story is told of a Red Cross nurse, to
whom a badly wounded man was brought at a field
hospital during one of the battles in which the brave
little Belgian army was trying to hold back the invading
Germans. All the surgeons were busy, and the man
needed assistance at once. The nurse knew what was
needed to save his life until he could receive surgical
treatment, and she knew how to do it; but she could
not do it alone. She must have help at once, and of the
right kind.
She was about to give up in despair, when she saw
a man walking through the field hospital, cheering the
sufferers and asking if he could be of any assistance.
She called to him, and when he came she said, ''You
can save this man's life if you will help me and do just
what I tell you, just when I tell you to do it. Do you
think you can take orders and obey them promptly?"
"I think so," replied the man. ''Let us save this poor
soldier's life, if we can."
* From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
126

Saving a Soldierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Life

The nurse set to work, telling the stranger just what
she wanted him to do. She wasted no words, but gave
orders as if she expected them to be obeyed quickly
and intelligently. The stranger proved himself equal to
the occasion, and the delicate work which saved the
man's life was soon done.
"Thank you," said the nurse, as she finished. ''I see
you are used to taking orders and know how to obey.
I shall remain with this soldier, until he regains
consciousness. He will want to know to whose
assistance he owes his life. Kindly give me your name."
The stranger hesitated. Then he said, ''The soldier
really owes his life to you, but I am glad if I was able to
help. If he asks, you may tell him the people call me
Albert."
And all at once the commanding little Red Cross
nurse understood that the tall, quiet man, who, she
said, showed that he was used to taking orders, was
Albert, King of the Belgians.

127

Cardinal Mercier*
It was in Rome itself that I received the tidings â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
stroke after stroke â&#x20AC;&#x201C; of the destruction of the church of
Louvain, of the burning of the Library and of the
scientific laboratories of our great University and of
the devastation of the city, and next of the wholesale
shooting of citizens, and tortures inflicted upon
women and children, and upon unarmed and
undefended men. And while I was still under the shock
of these calamities, the telegraph brought us news of
the bombardment of our beautiful metropolitan
church, of the church of Notre Dame, of the episcopal
palace, and of a great part of our dear city of Malines.
Afar, without means of communication with you, I
was compelled to lock my grief within my own afflicted
heart, and to carry it, with the thought of you, which
never left me, to my God.
I needed courage and light, and sought them in
such thoughts as these. A disaster has come upon the
world, and our beloved little Belgium, a nation so
* From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
128

Cardinal Mercier

faithful in the great mass of her population to God, so
upright in her patriotism, so noble in her King and
Government, is the first sufferer. She bleeds; her sons
are stricken down, within her fortresses, and upon her
fields, in defense of her rights and of her territory. Soon
there will not be one Belgian family not in mourning.
Why all this sorrow, my God? Lord, Lord, hast
Thou forsaken us?
The truth is that no disaster on earth is as terrible as
that which our sins provoke.
I summon you to face what has befallen us, and to
speak to you simply and directly of what is your duty,
and of what may be your hope. That duty I shall
express in two words: Patriotism and Endurance.

129

Killing the Soul*
As the centuries pass, the greatest glory of any
nation, its highest satisfaction and pride, is in the works
of art which it possesses. In each country there are
works of art which have been preserved through many
generations. They are the great inheritance of all the
past ages. Every nation prizes this inheritance and
wishes to hold it in safekeeping for still another
generation; for into these creations of genius, men
have put their souls.
If a famous inventor of machinery dies and the
particular machine which he made is destroyed, there
are yet other machines left, which have been made
after his pattern, usually much better than the first one
which he constructed.
While steamboats, railways, telegraphs, and
automobiles are very useful, they are not so mysterious
and individual but that they may be exactly copied and
many, many duplicates be made and used by every
country under the sun.
*From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
130

Killing the Soul

If all the music of the great composer Beethoven
should be destroyed so that no copy remained in the
world, there perhaps would be some master musicians
of today who could remember and write down the
notes, and so reproduce the wonderful compositions
once more.
But there have been artists who have seen visions
and dreamed dreams of God and heaven and the best
and happiest things they had found in life. Such a one,
with the power of his great genius, has made the dream
into a picture, a painting, a statue, or a wonderful
building, which no other person in the world is able to
copy exactly. Indeed, there are many half-finished
works which no artist, however great, has been able to
complete. The creator has put into the work his soul,
the best of all he thought and knew. So when many
artists with their many dreams brought their finest
works together into one place, it was certain that
forever that place would be cherished and the wonder
of it would belong to all people everywhere. While the
artists have died long ago, their spirits, their very souls,
seem alive today in the beautiful art works which they
have left. It is for this reason that we speak of great
artists who lived eight or nine hundred years ago, as if
they were still living today, for their souls are alive in
what they so wonderfully made. Those who look upon
131

The Belgians

these works are mysteriously inspired to live better and
happier lives themselves.
The loveliest art works in France are its Gothic
cathedrals, and of them all, the Cathedral at Rheims
was probably the most wonderful. No monument of
ancient or modern times is more widely known to the
world. It was built in the Middle Ages and expressed all
the aspiration and faith of the people of that time. For
seven hundred years it has been cherished for its great
beauty for the memory of the men who made it so
beautiful, and for the sacred services which have been
held in it. All the kings of France, except six, were
crowned in it. One of the most striking services was the
coronation of Charles VII, while Joan of Arc stood
beside him with the sacred banner in her hands.
The cathedral held the works of many ancient
artists. It was especially famous for its rose window, in
which the figures of prophets and martyrs were
glorified by the afternoon sun. Beneath the window
was a magnificent gallery. Statues of angels, a beautiful
statue of Christ, and one of the Madonna were to be
found in this wonderful building. The stained glass
windows were all very beautiful. Even the bells in the
tower were famous.
With the excuse that the French were using the
great towers of the old cathedral as observation posts,
132

Killing the Soul

the Germans bombarded and destroyed the church.
The roof was battered in and burned, the stained glass
windows broken, the famous bells pounded into a
shapeless mass, of metal, and the wonderful statues
and decorations hopelessly destroyed. Only the statue
of Joan of Arc, in front of the cathedral, remained
uninjured, as though to say, ''I am the soul of France.
You cannot injure or kill me." Afterwards the Germans
bombarded the church a second time, attempting to
tear down even the walls that were still standing.
Even savages in war respect sacred places, but the
Germans deliberately aimed their guns at them. No
excuse can ever be accepted by the civilized world for
this deliberate destruction, and certainly the excuse
cannot be accepted by military men that the act was
due to bad marksmanship.
Other ancient churches were horribly damaged.
The Germans stabled their horses in them, broke
down the candelabra and statues, and carried away
many valuable relics.
The burning of the University buildings at Louvain
completely destroyed the treasures that had been
preserved for centuries. Priceless manuscripts,
paintings that can never be replaced, and valuable
books in rare bindings were lost to the world.

133

The Belgians

The Germans scornfully but ignorantly declared,
''Why should we care if every monument in the world
is destroyed? We can build better ones." But the
German idea of beauty is great strength and huge size.
Their own public buildings and statues are often
horrible in color, immense and awkward in
appearance. They give people the impression of a
fearsome brute spreading himself out before them.
With few exceptions, there are no dainty figures and
designs, nor any beautiful thoughts and feelings, as
shown in the work of real artists.
The old cathedral at Rheims can never be restored.
No one can ever bring back the old beauty and color;
no one can revive those statues and paintings so that
ever again they will seem to breathe forth the soul of
the artists who fashioned them seven hundred years
ago. The walls may be rebuilt, and artists of tomorrow
may beautify them, but the spirit of the great men of
the Middle Ages is gone â&#x20AC;&#x201D; it has fled from the place
forever. Thus the Germans, not content with killing
the bodies of men, have in this way killed the souls of
some of the greatest of the geniuses of the past. How
can she pay the damage, or meet a fitting punishment?

134

Why Belgium Fought*
We are not annexed. We are not conquered. We are
not even vanquished. Our army is fighting. Our colors
float alongside those of France, England, and Russia.
The country subsists. She is simply unfortunate. More
than ever, then, we now owe ourselves to her, body
and soul. To defend her rights is also to fight for her.
We are living hours now as tragic as any country has
ever known. All is destruction and ruin around us.
Everywhere we see mourning. Our army has lost half
of its effective forces. Its percentage in dead and
wounded will never be reached by any of the
belligerents. There remains to us only a corner of
ground over there by the sea. The waters of the Yser
flow through an immense plain peopled by the dead. It
is called the Belgian Cemetery. There sleep our
children by the thousands. There they are sleeping
their last sleep. The struggle goes on bitterly and
without mercy.
Your sons, Mr. President, are at the front; mine as
1

From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
135

The Belgians

well. For months we have been living in anxiety
regarding the morrow.
Why these sacrifices, why this sorrow? Belgium
could have avoided these disasters, saved her existence,
her treasures, and the lives of her children, but she
preferred her honor.

136

Victory *
President Wilson cabled to King Albert on the day
the king was expected to enter Brussels, the Belgian
capital, the following message : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"Never has a national holiday occurred at a more
auspicious moment and never have felicitations been
more heartfelt than those which it is my high privilege
to tender to Your Majesty on this day.
"When facing imminent destruction, Belgium by
her self-sacrifice won for herself a place of honor
among nations, a crown of glory, imperishable though
all else were lost.
"The danger is averted, the hour of victory come
and with it the promise of a new life, fuller, greater,
nobler than has been known before.
"The blood of Belgium's heroic sons has not been
shed in vain."
The most terrible and bloody conflict in all history
had ended, and the world was saved for the people.
*From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
137

The Belgians

The struggle upward by the common people for over
a thousand years was not after all to be in vain. Liberty
and democracy were now assured to all; the danger of
slavery and autocracy was over. It was not strange that
a whole world seemed to have gone wild with joy.

138

German Proclamation *
The following proclamation by the Germans in the
province of Udine is an excellent example of how the
Huns treated conquered territory and conquered
peoples.
Proclamation issued by the Headquarters of the
German Military Government at Udine to the
inhabitants of conquered Italy.
A house-to-house search will be made for all
concealed arms, weapons, and ammunition.
All victuals remaining in the houses must be
delivered up.
Every citizen must obey our labor regulations.
All Workmen, Women, and Children over 15 years
old are obliged to work in the fields every day, Sundays
included, from 4 A.M. to 8 P.M.
Disobedience will be punished in the following
manner: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
* From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood

139

The Belgians

(1) Lazy workmen will be accompanied to their
work and watched by Germans. After the harvest they
will be imprisoned for six months, and every third day
will be given nothing but bread and water.
(2) Lazy women will be obliged to work, and after
the harvest receive six months' imprisonment.
(3) Lazy children will be punished by beating.
The Commandant reserves the right to punish lazy
workmen with 20 lashes daily.

140

The French

142

Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader*
In 1911, Joseph Joffre became commander-in-chief
of the French Armies. A gentle, kindly man was the
great general, and simple in all his ways! He ate
sparingly; he slept, by choice, on a hard bed; he
cleaned his sword and saddled his horse himself. His
voice, sweet as the grapes of his native vineyards, was
delightful to listen to. And yet the strength of this man,
so gentle and modest in manner, was felt by every
soldier in the French army. They loved him; yet they
felt that he must be obeyed. One of the highest officers
under him said truly, "He commands us as we love to
be commanded."
The year 1914 arrived, and with it the oncoming
rush of the mighty German army which had been long
preparing for its attack on France. Was Joffre excited at
the tremendous duty that was now his, â&#x20AC;&#x201C; to defend
France against the terrible enemy? He did not seem so,
at any rate. His manner was as calm and gentle as ever.
Yet the fire of a strong purpose, which had burned in
his heart for forty-four years, burned now with
* From Leaders to Liberty by Sara Wade

143

The French

intensest force. He was prepared. Every day since his
youth he had been preparing, not only in mind but in
body. That he might be strong and keen of thought, he
had eaten simply, exercised regularly, slept long nights
of healthful sleep. Yes, he was prepared. Long ago his
plans had been laid for defense when the foe should
strike.
Down in little Rivesalte there was no fear even
when men, women and children in other parts of
France were trembling at the news that war was upon
them.
"Haven't we got our Joffre?" they said to each other
with simple trust. Surely, they thought, France would
be safe if he was at the head of the army.
Ah! but there were fearful days ahead for the
country. They were days that would make the wisest
shake their heads and ask, "Shall we be able to hold out
against Germany's long-planned, carefully-thought-out
attack?"
"We must stand guard on the east," Joffre quickly
decided. There he would be ready to meet the
oncoming German hordes as they advanced over the
borderland. There were strong French forts there, so
he would be able to make a good resistance.
Accordingly he poured forces into that part of France.

144

Joseph Joffre - France’s Leader

Little did he dream that Germany did not plan to
take the course he expected because it would make the
hardest kind of fighting necessary. Indeed, no! How
much easier for her main army to march through
Belgium and enter France from a more northerly
direction. What was a mere scrap of paper, forsooth, –
a paper containing the promise that Belgium should
remain independent, no matter what troubles might
arise between her neighbors?
"Why! it is a trifle not worth considering," the
German Emperor and his advisers evidently believed.
Quickly Joffre had to change his plans as he heard
that seventy-five divisions of Prussians were sweeping
over Belgium. Perhaps – perhaps – their advance
would be checked before they reached the border forts
of Namur. So the French hoped. But bravely as King
Albert and his little army fought, he was able to hold
back the Germans for a short time only. On they came;
the stronghold of Namur gave way; the river Meuse
was crossed; and the cruel Huns entered the streets of
French towns, bringing sorrow and death and
destruction.
The women of the invaded districts no longer sang
songs at their work. Boys and girls stopped their play in
terror when they heard the hated "Watch on the
Rhine" played by the advancing German bands. There
145

The French

were terrible happenings in those days. Innocent
people were tortured and put to death by the bayonets
of their enemies, perhaps for their own amusement.
Little children were maimed and starving. Women
were made insane by the horrors they looked upon.
Weeping and wailing could now be heard all over
France as stories spread of what cruel war was bringing
in its train.
And Joffre? Day after day he gave the same
command – "Retreat" – as the invaders came sweeping
farther and farther into the country he loved as his life.
They were headed for Paris. It looked as if they would
soon reach the Capital and take possession of it. Then
would not France be lost? So tens of thousands of
people were saying to each other.
"Have we been mistaken in our
commander-in-chief?" they asked. They were losing
faith.
But most of the officers under Joffre still trusted in
him. They said, "He has a plan in his mind. We will still
believe in him and that he will lead our country to
safety."
One day, however it was late in August, 1914 – a
certain captain coming from the war front met some
other officers who had not heard the latest report. The
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Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

captain looked very gloomy. He had a sad tale to tell of
the army in full retreat, of the great need of heavy
artillery and munitions, of the rapid advance of the
enemy towards Paris.
"What about the General Headquarters?" asked one
of the officers in a discouraged tone.
"At the end of their rope," was the answer.
"And what does the boss say?" asked another
officer.
"Joffre?" the captain asked. Then, raising his arms
towards the sky and opening and shutting his eyes, he
cried, "Joffre? That man still believes we'll win out!"
And Joffre did believe it. He never lost hope.
Moreover, he had a plan on which he had spent long
hours of thought. He was like the sun that still shines
behind the clouds, be they ever so heavy and black, and
is sure to scatter those clouds some day. Even now he
could see victory ahead.
Day after day he led the retreat back, still back, till
he reached the river Marne. Every foot of the ground
here he knew from practice with troops years ago.
Now at last he was prepared to turn like a wild animal
at bay.

147

The French

It was the evening of September 4 when his officers
received from him an order to be given to their men at
once.
''Advance," so the order stated, "and when you can
no longer advance, hold at all costs what you have
gained. When you can no longer hold, die."
Next morning the will of Joseph Joffre was the will
of every man in his army, as it turned not merely to
defend itself as it had been doing; but to attack.
For five terrible days the battle raged.
The air resounded with the thunder of artillery. The
ground was strewn with the bodies of the dead and
dying. Many were the deeds of heroism in that time, as
with Joffre's words ringing in their ears, the French
soldiers forgot all else in their struggle to save the
fatherland.
"Hold at all costs what you have gained," he had
commanded. And further, "When you can no longer
hold, die." Yes, they would die and die gladly, if only
France might be spared the yoke of German slavery.
The courage of their commander had passed on to his
troops.
Slowly but surely the enemy weakened, and at last
with the daylight of September 10, the German army
was in retreat. The sunshine of strong will and steady
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Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

purpose had broken through the clouds. Joseph Joffre
had fulfilled the desire of his life, â&#x20AC;&#x201C; he had saved
France.
When the good news spread through the country,
there was rejoicing in every home. And in Paris, just
delivered from the approach of the enemy, a day was
given up to celebrate the wondrous victory of the
Marne. There were prayers of thanksgiving in the
churches, and songs of victory were sung. But most
precious of all tributes to the General whose fame was
now shouted over all the world was that offered to him
in the quiet little home town far from the noisy outside
world. There in dear little Rivesalte, the friends of
Joffre's childhood gathered flowers with which they
covered the steps of the old house where he was born.
Great was the pride of those peasant folks that day.
"Our Joffre," old men and women, boys and girls
said to each other, "is the savior of France."
How was it in these days with the soldiers of
France, the men whose glorious courage had so nobly
carried out the will of their commander? They had
gladly offered their lives in the terrible conflict because
they loved their chief and they knew that he loved
them. "Father Joffre" they came to call him. He was
their friend. Not one of them would he carelessly
sacrifice.
149

The French

Furthermore, he would take no more credit for
what he had done than should be given to the poorest
and humblest of his soldiers. When the battle of the
Marne had ended, he wrote a letter to those brave
faithful troops, in which he said:
"As for me, if I have done any good, I am rewarded
by the greatest honor that ever came to me in my
whole career, the honor of commanding men like you.
It is with deep emotion that I tender you my thanks for
what you have done. I owe to you the realization of
that towards which all my energies have continuously
strained for four and forty years; I mean the revanchel
of 1870."
In another part of the letter he said, "I do not want
people to talk about me any more than the others. I am
a citizen of the Republic, nothing more."
As we all know now, the Great War continued to
rage long after the battle of the Marne. Bitter fighting
was ahead for many months, for years in fact. But Joffre
had stemmed the tide of the German advance into his
country. He continued to keep up a noble defense
against an enemy that was far greater in number and
1

Revanche is the French word for revenge. Hence, by the
"revanche of 1870," Joffre referred to the revenge of his people
which the Germans deserved for their unjust war upon the
French in 1870.
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Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

vastly better trained than his own army.
During those years while Joffre was standing out
against the invaders, the Allies were preparing for the
time when they could not only defend themselves, but
make strong attacks. At the beginning they had been
taken by surprise. As soon as possible they must follow
a more active course.
When that time came, Joffre, who had "borne the
brunt of the burden" so long and was growing old,
agreed in his usual noble, big-hearted way that another
commander-in-chief should be chosen in his place.
But the man of iron will and loving heart was not to
be forgotten by his people.
"All honor to our noble Joffre," they said heartily.
In the homes of the great and the lowly everywhere
in France his picture, had its chosen place, and little
children were told by their parents: That is the hero
who saved our country in its greatest need. All along he
has believed in our final victory. He believes in it still.
And it was he who took the first great steps towards
making victory possible. Never forget Father Joffre."
As the war raged on, and deeds were done by the
Germans, that were too horrible to tell, the United
States could bear to look on no longer. She joined at
last in the War upon War. The good news of her
151

The French

coming gave fresh courage to France, now weary and
almost hopeless.
Shortly afterwards â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it was in the spring of 1917 â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
a war mission made a journey across the ocean to meet
the people of America and to talk with them about the
need of the Allies and the best ways of giving aid.
General Joffre, who was at the head of his country's
war council, had an important place in this mission.
He and his companions reached the shores of
Virginia on April 24 and the next day were received by
the President and the people of Washington with great
honor. During his stay in the Capital he visited the
House of Congress and listened to the speeches of
leading men of our country.
At that time one thought was strong in Marshal
Joffre's mind: American soldiers were needed to stand
in defense of liberty beside the weary soldiers of
France and Great Britain. He must show this. The
people of the United States must see, as clearly as he
saw, that not only money and supplies were necessary
to the Allies, but men full of health and strength and
courage. The United States, as this wise general knew,
had once fought a brave fight for freedom under
George Washington, the Father of his Country. So it
was that Joffre, whom the French soldiers loved as a

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Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

father, left the Capital with a full heart to visit the tomb
of Washington.
Mr. Balfour, who represented Great Britain in the
War Mission, went with him.
As they stood beside the tomb, Joffre laid a bronze
palm bound with the tricolor of France upon the
marble sarcophagus. Mr. Balfour placed a wreath of
lilies beside the palm. Then, turning to the people
gathered there, he spoke of the joy George
Washington would feel if he knew that Great Britain,
France, and the United States were now joined hand in
hand for the salvation of all men from the power that
was striving to enslave them.
From Washington the hero of the Marne went to
other leading cities in our country. Wherever Joffre
went he was met with joy and great applause. In St.
Louis over fifteen thousand people crowded into the
Coliseum to see him and hear him speak. Other
thousands, remaining outside because there was no
more room within, made the air ring with their singing
of the "Marseillaise," and with shouts of "Long live
France, Long live France!"
In Springfield, Illinois, where Abraham Lincoln lies
buried, Marshal Joffre knelt down reverently and
lovingly beside the marble slab of his tomb.

153

The French

At Philadelphia Joffre listened with strong feeling to
the "Marseillaise " which three thousand High School
girls sang in his honor. There he placed wreaths on the
grave of Benjamin Franklin and the statue of Joan of
Arc. Then, at the University of Pennsylvania, he
received degrees of honor and afterwards rode through
Franklin Field to the cheers of thousands of people
gathered there to catch a glimpse of his kind, smiling
face.
But it was in New York City that Marshal Joffre was
most deeply touched. It was at the singing of the
school children who gave him their greeting in City
Hall Park. He had received honors of many kinds. The
greatest people of the United States had been doing all
they could to show their love and admiration for this
noble hero ever since he arrived here. But after all,
nothing pleased Joffre, the man of simple loving heart,
so much as the songs of greeting of American boys and
girls.
Joffre's love for the little folks showed itself a day or
two afterwards when it fell to him to unveil a statue of
Lafayette in Prospect Park, Brooklyn.
In the midst of the ceremony a little girl came up to
him to present a bouquet of flowers. Suddenly she
became fearful of the watching crowds and the
greatness of the man before her, and burst out
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Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

weeping. And Joffre? Why, he did just what we might
expect. He reached down and took not only the
flowers, but the little girl into his strong, loving arms.
Before leaving the United States Joffre visited West
Point and spoke hopeful words to the military students
there. He also went to Boston; and at Harvard
University across the river, he reviewed the regiment of
young students already training for service in the war.
When Joseph Joffre returned to France he went
with a glad and hopeful heart. He had been welcomed
in the United States as a war hero. But more than this:
he knew that he stood to them as the defender, not
only of French liberty, but of a holy cause, â&#x20AC;&#x201C; world
freedom. Because of his coming, America would be
willing to sacrifice more and serve more nobly in that
cause.
At last the good news was telegraphed around the
world that the terrible fighting of more than four years
had come to an end. No longer was the sound of
cannon heard in France. No longer did the dreaded
airplane hurl bombs down on innocent people. No
longer did the vile submarines hide beneath the waters
of the sea, striking death upon defenseless men,
women, and children without warning.
In the rejoicing that followed Joffre was present in
the hearts of his countrymen.
155

The French

"He is one of the immortals," they declared. "Like
France, he can never die."
No more fitting honor could be bestowed upon
him now, they agreed, than to make him a member of
the French Academy where the greatest names in
history had a place. Here only the noblest statesmen
had ever been admitted, together with the leaders in
art, in literature, in the church, in warfare. Here,
without question, therefore, must Marshal Joffre, the
hero of the Marne, be admitted.
As he stood up before a great gathering, the sun
burst through the clouds of a dark day, shedding its
brightness over all. Simple in manner as on entering
the humblest home of his native town, Joffre wore the
undress uniform of a Marshal of France instead of the
richly embroidered gown of a member of the
Academy, as he might have done.
"It is as a Marshal of France that I enter the
Academy," he had said, "and it is dressed as such that I
shall present myself there."
After he had made his address it fell to a noted poet
to reply. When he spoke of Marshal Joffre as the victor
of the Marne, Joffre arose and said, "It is not I, it is the
Poilu." Now, since the French word poilu means a
common soldier or private, Joffre wished to express

156

Joseph Joffre - Franceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

that it was not through him, but through the devotion
of his soldiers, that the battle had been won.
At his words, every person in the audience, so we
are told, turned his eyes up towards the balcony, where
a blind soldier was standing at attention. On the
instant all burst into loud cheers, led by President
Wilson who rejoiced heartily in being present when
Joseph Jacques Cesaire Joffre was given a place in the
French Academy, marking his name as one belonging
to all time, as eternal.

157

An Alsatian Boy *
(France lost Alsace-Lorraine to Germany following the
Franco-Prussian war in 1871.)

That morning I was very late for school, and was
terribly afraid of being scolded, for M. Hamel, the
schoolmaster, had said he intended to examine us on
the participles, and I knew not a word about them. The
thought came into my head that I would skip the class
altogether, and so off I went across the fields.
The weather was so hot and clear!
One could hear the blackbirds whistling on the
edge of the wood; in Ripperts' meadow, behind the
sawyard, the Prussian soldiers were drilling. All this
attracted me much more than the rules about
participles; but I had the strength to resist and so I
turned and ran quickly back towards the school.
In passing before the town hall, I saw that a number
of people were stopping before the little grating where
notices are posted up. For two years past it was there
we learned all the bad news, the battles lost, and the
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood

158

An Alsatian Boy

orders of the commandant; so I thought to myself
without stopping: ''What can it be now?" Then, as I
was running across the square, the blacksmith,
Wachter, who was there with his apprentice, just going
to read the notice, cried out to me: â&#x20AC;&#x201D; "Don't be in
such a hurry, little fellow, you will be quite early
enough for your school.''
I thought he was making fun of me, and I was quite
out of breath when I entered M. Hamel's little
courtyard.
Generally, at the beginning of the class, there was a
great uproar which one could hear in the street; desks
opened and shut, lessons studied aloud all together,
with hands over ears to learn better, and the big ruler
of the master tapping on the table: "More silence
there."
I had counted on all this commotion to gain my
desk unobserved; but precisely that day all was quiet as
a Sunday morning. Through the open window I could
see my schoolmates already in their places, and M.
Hamel, who was walking up and down with the terrible
ruler under his arm. I had to open the door and enter
in the midst of this complete silence. You can fancy
how red I turned and how frightened I was.
But no, M. Hamel looked at me without any anger,
and said very gently : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
159

The French

"Take your place quickly, my little Franz, we were
just going to begin without you."
I climbed up on the bench and sat down at once at
my desk.
Only then, a little recovered from my fright, I
noticed that our master had on his new green overcoat,
his fine plaited frill, and the embroidered black
skull-cap which he put on for the inspection days or
the prize distributions. Besides, all the class wore a
curious solemn look. But what surprised me most of all
was to see at the end of the room, on the seats which
were usually empty, a number of the village elders
seated and silent like the rest of us; old Hansor with his
cocked hat, the former mayor, the old postman, and a
lot of other people. Everybody looked melancholy;
and Hansor had brought an old spelling book, ragged
at the edges, which he held wide open on his knees,
with his big spectacles laid across the pages.
While I was wondering over all this, M. Hamel had
placed himself in his chair, and with the same grave,
soft voice in which he had spoken to me, he addressed
us : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"My children, it is the last time that I shall hold class
for you. The order is come from Berlin that only
German is to be taught in the schools of Alsace and
Lorraine from now on. The new master arrives
160

An Alsatian Boy

tomorrow. Today is your last lesson in French. I ask
you to be very attentive."
These words quite upset me. Ah, the wretches! this
then was what they had posted up at the town hall.
My last lesson in French!
And I who hardly knew how to write. I should
never learn then! I must stop where I was! How I
longed now for the wasted time, for the classes when I
played truant to go birds'-nesting, or to slide on the
Saar! The books which I was used to find so
wearisome, so heavy to carry â&#x20AC;&#x201D; my grammar, my
history â&#x20AC;&#x201D; now seemed to me old friends whom I was
very sorry to part with. The same with M. Hamel. The
idea that he was going away, that I should never see
him again, made me forget the punishment and the
raps with the ruler.
Poor man!
It was in honor of this last class that he had put on
his Sunday clothes, and now I understood why the
elders of the village had come and seated themselves in
the schoolroom. That meant that they were grieved
not to have come oftener to the school. It was a sort of
way of thanking our master for his forty years of good
service, and of showing their respect for their country
that was being taken from them.
161

The French

I had come as far as this in my reflections when I
heard my name called. It was my turn to recite. What
would I not have given to have been able to say right
through that famous rule of the participles, quite loud
and very clear, without a stumble; but I bungled at the
first word, and stopped short, balancing myself on my
bench, with bursting heart, not daring to raise my
head. I heard M. Hamel speak to me : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"I shall not scold thee, my little Franz, thou must be
punished enough without that. See how it is. Every day
one says, 'Bah! There is time enough. I shall learn
tomorrow.' And then see what happens. Ah! that has
been the great mistake of our Alsace, always to defer its
lesson until tomorrow. Now those folk have a right to
say to us, 'What! you pretend to be French and you
cannot even speak or write your language!' In all that,
my poor Franz, it is not only thou that art guilty. We
must all bear our full share in the blame. Your parents
have not cared enough to have you taught. They liked
better to send you to work on the land or at the factory
to gain a few more pence. And I too, have I nothing to
reproach myself with? Have I not often made you
water my garden instead of learning your lessons? And
when I wanted to fish for trout, did I ever hesitate to
dismiss you?"

162

An Alsatian Boy

Then from one thing to another M. Hamel began
to talk to us about the French language, saying that it
was the most beautiful language in the world, the
clearest, the most forceful; that we must guard it
among us and never forget it, because when a people
falls into slavery, as long as it holds firmly to its own
tongue, it holds the key of its prison. Then he took a
grammar and gave us our lesson. I was astonished to
find how well I understood. All he said seemed to me
so easy, so easy. I think, too, that I never listened so
hard, and that he had never taken such pains to
explain. One would have said that before going away
the poor man wished to give us all his knowledge, to
ram it all into our heads at one blow.
That lesson finished, we passed to writing. For that
day M. Hamel had prepared for us some quite fresh
copies, on which was written in beautiful round hand:
France, Alsace, France, Alsace. They looked like little
banners floating round the class room on the rail of our
desks. To see how hard every one tried! And what a
silence there was! One could hear nothing but the
scraping of the pens on the paper. Once some
cock-chafers flew in; but nobody took any heed, not
even the little ones, who worked away at their
pothooks with such enthusiasm and conscientiousness
as if feeling there was something French about them.
163

The French

On the roof of the school the pigeons cooed softly, and
I thought to myself, hearing them: â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"Are they to be forced to sing in German too?"
From time to time, when I raised my eyes from the
page, I saw M. Hamel motionless in his chair, looking
fixedly at everything round him, as if he would like to
carry away in his eyes all his little schoolhouse. Think
of it! For forty years he had been in the same place, in
his court outside or with his class before him. Only the
benches and the desks had grown polished by the
constant rubbing; the walnut trees in the courtyard had
grown up, and the honeysuckle, which he had planted
himself, now garlanded the windows up to the roof.
What a heart-break it must be for this poor man to
leave all these things, and to hear his sister coming and
going in the room above, packing up their boxes, for
they were to go the next day â&#x20AC;&#x201D; to leave the country
forever.
All the same, what courage he had to carry out the
class to the end! After the writing we had our history
lesson; then the little ones sang all together their Ba,
Be, Bi, Bo, Bu. There at the end of the room, old
Hansor put on his spectacles, and holding his
spelling-book with both hands, he spelt the letters with
them. One could see that he too did his best; his voice
trembled with emotion, and it was so funny to hear
164

An Alsatian Boy

him that we all wanted to laugh and cry at once. Ah! I
shall always remember that class.
Suddenly the clock of the church rang for noon,
then for the Angelus. At the same moment, the
trumpets of the Prussians returning from drill pealed
out under our windows. M. Hamel rose from his chair,
turning very pale. Never had he looked to me so tall.
"My friends," he said, "my friends, I — I — " But
something choked him. He could not finish the
sentence.
Then he turned to the blackboard, took a piece of
chalk, and pressing with all his might, he wrote as large
as he could: —
VIVE LA FRANCE

165

Marie the Courageous*
"The Padre and his little niece, an orphan of twelve,
lived on the outskirts of a French village that had been
taken by the Germans,"began Captain Favor, resuming
his story telling for the children.
"Marie, for that was her name, was a patriot if there
ever was one. Every fibre of her being was for France,
and one could see the fires of patriotism flaming in her
eyes. That is the sort of patriotism, Joe, that no fear of
death can dim."
Joe Funk nodded approvingly. His own patriotism
had been stirred by these tales of the heroism of the
children of France.
"While the French were in possession of the village
in the early days of the war, an officer of that army
made his headquarters with the Padre and his niece,"
continued Captain Favor. "He became very fond of the
child. Captain Grivelet was his name and, recognizing
in Marie a true patriot, he had explained many things
*

From The Children of France and the Red Cross by June Lucas

166

Marie the Courageous

to her about the war, so that, for a child so young,
Marie was able to form a very clear idea of the situation
of the two armies.
"There were, of course, many army secrets of which
Captain Grivelet never spoke. He, too, was a patriot,
you see, as he should be. Having asked permission to
store some of his personal equipment in the padre's
cellar, they thought nothing of his going down there
frequently. Now and then Marie was certain she heard
him talking to someone down there.
"One day, after the Prussians had pushed the
French back close to the village â&#x20AC;&#x201C; this was before the
Germans took the village, you understand â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Captain
Grivelet had a talk with Marie.
"'Marie, knowing that you are French in your heart
and soul, I shall confide certain secrets to you. Are you
willing to serve your country?'
"'Yes, monsieur le Capitaine. Always, and with my
life, if necessary.'
"'Bravely spoken. You may do as your judgment
dictates about repeating what I shall tell you to the
Padre, your uncle. But for the sake of his safety I
should advise that you keep your own secrets. Such
secrecy will not bring dishonor upon you, for it is in
behalf of your country.'
167

The French

"'I understand, monsieur. You may trust Marie. She
is a loyal French girl and will continue to be so no
matter what comes.'
"The captain nodded approvingly.
"'Whether or not we shall be able to hold our lines
here seems doubtful. At least we fear the Prussians, in
large force as they are, may temporarily drive us back.
But it will not be for long. We shall recover our ground.
Even now we are entrenching ourselves to the rear.
When that time comes, Marie, you and the Padre will
be in peril, for the French probably will have to shell
the village. We hope it may not come to that. What I
would ask you is, do you and your uncle wish to go to
the rear while there is yet time, so you may be safe?'
"'There is reason for believing, monsieur le
Capitaine, that Marie may be of use to her beloved
France here?' she questioned.
"'Yes; that is what I would say.'
"'It is not necessary to ask, monsieur.'
"'You will understand that it is better that I do not
speak to the padre, your uncle. You may do so, and you
will the better be able to judge how to speak to him,
though as I already have advised, for the sake of his
safety he should not be involved. You will not be
afraid, Marie?'
168

Marie the Courageous

"'No, monsieur.'
"'It is well. You have seen me go to the cellar, many
times, where I store my equipment. This equipment I
shall remove today, but in the cellar you will find--'
"At this instant a shell landed in the street and
exploded with a roar. It was followed by other shells
that swept on to the rear and fell beyond the village. A
bugle somewhere down the street blew insistently. The
captain sprang to his feet.
"'Marie, I shall see you later. I am called. You will be
prudent and be careful of your life?'
"'Yes, monsieur.'
"The captain hurried out and that was the last the
brave little French girl heard of him for some time
afterward. All day the battle raged and shells fell in the
village, many times the Padre's house being showered
with bursting shrapnel and shell splinters. It was a stout
little stone house and withstood this storm of steel,
save as now and then a splinter from a shell tore
through the blinds and imbedded itself in the wall.
"In the meantime Marie had gone out, unmindful of
the danger, to fetch her uncle home. The Padre was in
his church, but Marie made him come home. Reaching
there, she said:

169

The French

"'My uncle, the Germans may come and we shall be
in their power. Is it your wish to remain here or to go
to the rear where you will be safe?'
"'I shall remain here, my child. Perhaps it would be
well for you to go to the rear and be under the
protection of the French, for the Prussians are beasts!'
"'With your permission, my uncle, I shall stay here
with you. I shall not leave you.'
"It is well. If the Prussians come I shall speak with
them, and perhaps they will leave the Padre and his
niece to themselves. But they shall not make us
Prussians; we shall still be loyal to our beloved France.'
"'Yes, uncle, but it will be well that you have a care
as to what you say and do. Please heed what Marie
says, for she knows whereof she speaks.'
"All that day the battle raged and the Padre and
Marie remained in their home, except now and then
when the child went out to watch the progress of the
battle, for their house was on high ground
commanding an excellent view of the battlefield. The
field, however, was so covered with smoke that few of
the details of what was going on out there were
observable.
"With darkness the battle still continued. Later on
there was rifle fire in the street, and, acting upon the
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Marie the Courageous

Padre's suggestion, uncle and niece took refuge in their
cellar, for the bullets were beginning to spatter on the
walls within the house.
"It was near daylight when the firing died down,
whereupon the Padre and Marie came upstairs and
went to bed for a few hours' sleep.
"They were rudely awakened by a violent pounding
on the door. It was Marie who sprang up at the sound
and who opened the door. Confronting her was a
German soldier, armed with a rifle. The girl did not
quail.
"'Is this the Padre's home?' he demanded gruffly.
"'It is.'
"'The Prussians are now in control of this village
and the inhabitants will govern themselves
accordingly. We shall search your house. Then, if you
behave yourselves, you will be permitted to remain
here and to go out in the daytime, as usual. All food
that is asked for by the soldiers shall be given to them
without question, but any attempt to communicate
with the enemy, the slightest disobedience of the
orders of the commander, will be punished by death.'
"The soldier beckoned to several other soldiers who
were in the background and ordered them to search
the house. This they did with thoroughness. Marie had
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The French

forgotten about the equipment of Captain Grivelet in
the cellar, but it was brought home to her with a shock
when the searchers came up bearing the stuff the
French officer had left. The soldier in charge eyed the
Padre and his niece sternly. He demanded to know to
whom this equipment belonged.
"Marie very frankly told him that an officer had
requested permission to leave the equipment there,
and had slept in the house. Beyond that she knew
nothing, nor did she know what his luggage contained.
"'I shall report this to my commander. I know not
what he will do, but giving aid to the enemy is a serious
matter,' he warned. Then the soldiers went away. That
day neither the Padre nor Marie left the house. Late in
the afternoon an officer entered and questioned them
sharply, finally leaving, apparently satisfied with their
answers. The two were not disturbed again.
"Next day the Padre went to his church and Marie
went out to do her marketing. She was unmolested,
though soldiers frequently spoke to her jokingly, to all
of which she smiled and made some bright reply.
"That night as she sat thinking in her room in the
dark, her conversation with Captain Grivelet suddenly
came back to her. He had been about to tell her
something of importance, something that he wished
her to do for her people.
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"'The cellar!' exclaimed the child.
"Snatching up a candle, she hurried below and
holding the light above her head, surveyed the
low-ceilinged cellar keenly.
"'I see nothing,' murmured the girl. 'But surely there
is something here. It could not have been in the
equipment that the Germans carried away with them,
for they searched the Captain's belongings and found
nothing. That I plainly saw with my own eyes.'
"Marie gave up her quest and, returning to her
room, went to bed. The greater part of the night she
lay awake, disturbed now and then by vollies of rifle
shots, which she interpreted with a shudder. Some of
her neighbors were meeting a terrible fate, a fate that
yet might be hers or her uncle's, or both.
"On the following morning, after a soldier had
visited their home and again searched it, Marie, still
troubled by her failure to find that which the French
captain had started to confide in her, locked the door
after the Padre's departure for his church, and once
more went to the cellar.
"This time her search was thorough, but she
discovered nothing. Sitting down in the middle of the
cellar, with her candle placed on the floor at one side,
she gazed about her. A shadow cast by the candlelight
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The French

on the cellar wall seemed to make it appear that one of
the stones projected outward further than the others.
"Marie got up to examine the stone. Closer
examination verified this surmise. She uttered a little
exclamation when, upon taking hold of the stone, it
moved. Marie pulled and the stone came out easily.
"'Oh!' cried the child.
"There, before her eyes, tucked into the opening,
was a telephone. The child stared at it with wide open
eyes. This, plainly, was what the French captain wished
to tell her about when he was interrupted by the bugle
summons and called away to a service from which he
did not return. But what was it that he wished her to do
with the telephone?
"'I have it!' she cried exultingly. 'It was that he
wished the little Marie to tell him what the Prussians
were doing. At last the way is opened for her to serve
her country. Butâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; The child, with a wisdom beyond
her years, knew what the penalty would be if she were
discovered. 'I care not. If I shall have served my France
I can die with a brave heart!'
"Taking the telephone in her handsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; hands that
did not even tremble, Marie called a soft 'hello!' There
was no response. Again and again she tried, but

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without result. Finally the child gave it up and went
back upstairs.
"The thought of the telephone drew her again to
the cellar. Again she called her soft 'hello.'
"The answer came back in French with a
suddenness that nearly caused her to drop the
telephone.
"'Who is speaking?' she asked in as firm a voice as
she could summon.
"'Whom do you wish?'
"'I would speak with Captain Grivelet'
"'He is not here. I cannot reach him.'
"'It is important. Find him and tell him that the little
Marie would speak with him. Tell him to come at ten
o'clock this evening and Marie will be here at the
telephone. He will understand.'
"Marie put back the telephone and carefully closed
the opening. Now she had a distinct mission to
perform, and, throwing a scarf over her head, she went
out to the street. Marie was very bright of face and very
friendly with the German soldiers. No obstacle was
placed in the way of her going where she liked. That
day she used her eyes and ears to good advantage and
they saw and heard many things. What especially
interested her was the massing of German troops in
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The French

the forest to the west of the village. She heard of this
through a conversation between two officers. There
also was great activity behind the lines. There the
Germans were building entrenchments, which she
could plainly see from the windows of her home.
"The child knew that what she had observed was
important, but just how important, of course, she
could not know.
"Promptly at ten o'clock that night, after the Padre
had gone fast asleep, Marie hastened to the cellar and
again called over the telephone. Captain Grivelet was
quickly summoned.
"'It is the little Marie speaking,' she called excitedly.
"'My brave child,' answered the captain. 'I knew you
would find the way. We are defeated, but not for long,
for the French are being reinforced and are angry. Can
you safely go out into the street tomorrow and then let
me know what they are doing?'
"'I already have been out, monsieur le Capitaine,
and I have seen.'
"'I beg of you to be careful. You are in great peril. If
the Boches discover that you are in communication
with us they will shoot you.'
"'I fear them not. But I must hasten. Listen!' Marie
then told the captain all that she had learned,
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Marie the Courageous

interrupted frequently by exclamations of approval
from the officer at the other end.
"'Wait!' she called. 'Hold, for I hear movement
above.'
"A few minutes later Marie returned to the
telephone. 'Down in the middle of the village are many
soldiers. I know not why they are gathering there, but
I think perhaps they may be going to shoot some of
our noble Frenchmen.'
"'Down by the square?' questioned the captain.
"'Yes.'
"'Put away your telephone and go to the floor
above. Watch the square and you shall see what the
French gunners can do. The people are in their
houses?'
"'Yes, monsieur, they dare not go out at night. It is
forbidden.'
"'Good! Do as I have directed, and go no more to
the telephone until tomorrow night at this time, unless
something of importance develops, then call for me. I
shall leave orders to be summoned immediately.'
"Not fully understanding what the captain was
about to do, the child hastened upstairs and, opening
the door slightly, peered down the street.
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The French

"It was at this moment that a giant shell from a
French battery exploded fairly in the middle of the
square, with a terrific shock and roar. It was followed
by several other heavy explosions. Then silence settled
over the night.
"This silence, however, did not last for long. The
forest in which so many German troops were being
massed was bombarded all through the night, as were
the entrenchments to the rear of the village where the
enemy was busily engaged in fortifying themselves.
"The child shuddered. She was troubled.
"'It is for France that I have done this,' she said to
comfort herself. 'Already the Prussians have killed
many here, and for what? For nothing save that they
are French. It is terrible.'
"On the following day Marie picked up further
information. She also learned that the Germans had
suffered heavily from the previous night's
bombardment, and that they were amazed at the exact
information possessed by the French.
"Each night the child spoke with the French captain
over the telephone, and each night the French
obtained information of great value to them. Though
Marie did not know it, the Germans had by this time
satisfied themselves that some one in the village was
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Marie the Courageous

communicating with the French forces, and a careful
watch was being kept on every inhabitant of the place.
Marie, all ignorant of this, continued to keep the
French informed of the movements of the enemy.
"One night, after a day of heavy fighting on both
sides, during which the Germans had been slowly
pushed back, Marie was giving Captain Grivelet her
report of the operations on the German side for that
day. She had communicated everything down to the
smallest detail and was just replacing the telephone in
its niche when she thought she heard a sound behind
her. Marie turned quickly.
"The child's head grew dizzy; she nearly fainted
with fright, for there, gazing sternly at her, stood a
Prussian officer.
"'So! This is it?'
"Marie did not answer. She could not.
"'For this you shall be shot. Stand back. Give me
that telephone!'
"Snatching it from her hands he got the French
headquarters, though he did not know to whom he was
speaking.
"'Speaking to you is a Prussian major,' he said in
French. 'He has just discovered why the French have

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The French

been so fully informed. The spy who has thus informed
you is the Padre's niece. She dies tonight!'
"With that the major wrenched the telephone from
its wires and ripped the wires out, leaving the outside
wires, that were underground, for his engineers to
destroy. Marie, eyes now flashing, was led from her
home and taken to the office of the general
commanding the operations there. Soon after her
arrival her uncle came, in charge of two soldiers. Then
the examination began. Not one bit of information
would the girl give. At last the commanding officer
turned to the Padre.
"'It is my belief that you are responsible for this
spying. It is not my wish to shoot a Padre, but you shall
be taken out and shot immediately!'
"'No, no, no!' cried Marie, now thoroughly aroused.
'He knows nothing of what has been done. I swear it,
monsieur! It is Marie who has informed the French of
what the hated Prussians were doing. I--'
"'Ah! You admit it! It is well. Take her away. Take
the Padre away also, but keep them separated.'
"Marie left the commander with head erect and
eyes flashing. Her only concern was for her uncle,
whom she feared would be shot. She had no doubts

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Marie the Courageous

about herself. Of course, they would shoot her and she
gloried in the thought that she was to die for France.
"After her departure the Prussian general devoted
several minutes to deep thought.
"'Of course, Herr General, she will be shot,' said the
major who had made the capture.
"'No!' answered the commander, with emphasis.
"'Not shot?' questioned the officer in amazement.
"'No. She shall be sent to the camp at Metz and
imprisoned for the duration of the war. The Padre also
shall be sent to the rear and held during the rest of the
war.'
"'Herr General, may I ask why, when both should
be executed without delay?'
"'Because, major, I dislike to put a Padre to death,
and further, I am satisfied that the girl told the truth
when she said that he knew nothing of this affair. He is
a simple-minded man. But the girl!' The general
shrugged his shoulders like a Frenchman. 'She is keen
as a new saber.'
"'And knowing well what she was doing she should
be shot,' insisted the major.
"'I have a daughter of her age,' replied the general,
slowly. 'This child is so like her that I should feel like
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The French

murdering my own were I to order her shot. Major, I
cannot do it. See that my orders are carried out. I shall
explain my action in this matter to my superiors for
their approval.'
"That ended it. It was an unusual thing for a
Prussian to do and perhaps the only instance in the war
where so much human sympathy was shown to a spy.
Marie was taken to the prison at Metz, where she was
kept from that time on. She suffered great hardships.
There was little food and her treatment was harsh, so
that her days were a misery and her nights a nightmare.
"A long time elapsed ere Captain Grivelet learned,
through the Red Cross, what had become of the child.
His sorrow had been keen, for he believed that she had
been executed. The Padre was still in a prison camp the
last I heard of the case. I hope the beautiful little
patriot and her uncle may be reunited some day. But
Marie has served her country nobly and if she ever
comes back she will be splendidly rewarded by her
government," said the captain, in conclusion.

182

The Americans

184

John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader*
In 1905 a war was going on between Russia and
Japan. There were lessons to learn on the battle fields
of those nations. So it came about that John Joseph
Pershing went to Manchuria where he was stationed
with Commander Kuroki, watching the methods of
Japanese warfare.
A few years later trouble arose between the United
States and Mexico. Mexican bandits kept coming over
the border of this country, taking the settlers by
surprise, raiding their homes, and killing innocent
people. The worst and most dangerous of these
bandits was the half-breed Villa, a cruel, savage man
with many followers.
Villa must be pursued and caught if the people
living on the borderland were to be made safe, so the
United States Government decided. But what
commander was best fitted to lead the troops to be
sent after him? The country of northern Mexico was
very wild: there were steep mountains, and deep
*

From Leaders to Liberty by Mary Wade
185

The Americans

dangerous canyons, and stretches of burning deserts.
Moreover, the leader must be wise and cool-headed
and must understand the ways of Indian fighting.
The question was quickly answered: no one was so
well fitted for the high post as John Joseph Pershing.
He quickly proved that the choice was a good one.
Through his wise command the trouble with Mexico
soon came to an end, and the settlers on the
borderland once more felt safe. But during General
Pershing's stay there a terrible sorrow came to him.
Some years before he had married the daughter of
United States Senator Warren. He loved his wife
deeply, as well as the little children who had come to
them â&#x20AC;&#x201C; three daughters and one son, and it was hard
for him to have them so far away from him. He
managed after a while to have a little home down near
the borderland made ready for their coming so that he
might be with them when not in active work.
Sad to say, just as all was prepared, news came to
the General that his wife and daughters had been
burned to death in San Francisco. Only the son was
saved.
Great must have been the General's suffering. To
an old friend in Laclede, he wrote of his loss that it
took more than mortal courage to continue in the
work his country had given him to do. Nevertheless, he
186

John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

did continue, and he performed that work faithfully
though his heart was sorely aching.
In the meantime the Great War was raging across
the ocean. One frightful deed after another had been
committed by the Germans some of them so horrible
that many American people could not believe it
possible for them to be true.
Before long things happened, the truth of which
could not be questioned. Bombs were being sent out
from airplanes, striking and killing defenseless people
far from the field of war, yes, even upon hospitals
where lay the sick and the dying. And there were
attacks by submarines on ships carrying passengers
who had no thought of taking part in the war. The
ships were sunk without warning, and the people went
down to sudden and dreadful death.
Among these cruel deeds was the sinking of the
beautiful steamer, the Lusitania. She was carrying
hundreds of happy, innocent people across the
Atlantic. In an instant their joy changed to horror. A
torpedo from a submarine had struck the ship, and she
went down to the depths of the ocean without time for
her passengers to escape on lifeboats.
The Germans were not satisfied even with their air
raids, their submarines, and the mighty engines of war
they used on the battle fields. They invented a deadly
187

The Americans

poison gas which was sent out without warning against
the armies of the Allies. As it went sweeping on its way,
it brought suffocation and death in its train.
The time came at last â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the war had been going on
for more than two years then â&#x20AC;&#x201C; when the whole United
States was roused by what had been happening.
"This is not like any war that has ever happened
before," cried one after another. "We cannot stand back
and watch any longer. We must join the Allies and
make war upon war. The cause is Right against Might.
We shall win because in the end Right always does
win."
After thus deciding, there were many questions to
answer. Would the United States do her part by
sending needed supplies of food and ammunition to
her Allies? What else could she send across the wide
Atlantic? Would it be possible to send an army too,
when all the soldiers must be carried in ships with
constant danger of attack by submarines? This last did
not at first seem possible. Besides, there was only a
small number of troops in the whole country. Men of
this peaceful land would have to be trained a long time
before they could be of any use in the terrible warfare
that was going on.
But alas! the British and French troops were very
weary from long, hard fighting. Tens of thousands of
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John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

them had already been killed. Other tens of thousands
had been wounded or been made ill from suffering.
The Russians, who had fought bravely at first, had
made a disgraceful peace with Germany. The Italian
army was brave but small, and was kept busy resisting
Germany's allies, the Austrians.
If America did her part, she must raise a big army,
and it must cross the Atlantic. Furthermore, it must
have a strong, wise, brave commander. That
commander, it was quickly seen, must be General
Pershing.
No time was lost, once the mind of the American
people was made up. A few weeks afterwards General
Pershing was crossing the ocean on the way to France.
As he paced the deck of the steamer, "a slim, trim,
grim man," as an onlooker described him, he had much
to think of since few of the soldiers he was to lead knew
anything about war. The number of "regulars" was
small. One, two, three, perhaps even four or five
millions of American soldiers might be needed before
Germany should be conquered. They must be trained,
and trained quickly, for the most terrible kinds of
fighting, â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in the trenches, with the bayonet, against
the deadly poison gas. Some of the training could be
done in cantonments in the United States. Still more
must follow after the men reached France.
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The Americans

Moreover, when they fought, it would be in a
strange land far from their loved ones. They would
have to resist not only the Huns, but homesickness.
They must, therefore, be kept as happy and
comfortable as possible. The wise leader had all these
things to consider. He must prepare himself and the
army that was being formed for the great undertaking
before him and them.
On the eighth day of June, 1917, he landed at
Liverpool, England. As he stepped on shore he was
greeted by a British general with a guard of honor. At
the same moment the band of an English regiment
began to play the "Star Spangled Banner." It was a
glorious welcome, speaking to the newcomer of
England's happiness in receiving the man who
represented her sister country and friend, the United
States.
From Liverpool, Pershing went on to London
where King George and Queen Mary, and high officers
in the British army and navy treated him with great
honor.
But he could not tarry long even in the greatest city
in the world. He felt that he must hurry over to France
to plan for the coming of his army. When he arrived
there the excitement of the people was even greater
than in England.
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John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

"I salute the United States of America which has
now become united with the United States of Europe,"
General Dumas, one of the French commanders, said
to Pershing when he greeted him at Boulogne.
It was an historic moment, as Pershing declared
afterwards: for the first time an American in uniform
had come to Europe to help in defending it against an
enemy.
Long lines of soldiers were drawn up in the French
city in honor of the guest. As Pershing looked at these
men he was deeply touched; not fresh and
light-hearted soldiers were they; but grim and warworn because they had seen long, hard fighting. Yes,
the need was great. The American commander must
show himself equal to the immense work before him.
From Boulogne he hastened to Paris. Never since
the war began had a visitor there received such a
welcome as the great American. Ranks upon ranks of
soldiers flanked the streets for many blocks. The
doorways and windows, the balconies and housetops
were filled with people to see Pershing as he rode past.
Tens of thousands of men, women, and children were
waving the American flag and shouting "Long live
America!" Bands were playing the "Marseillaise" and
the "Star Spangled Banner." Among the great

191

The Americans

Frenchmen who greeted the American were Marshal
Joffre and General Foch.
Why was there such excitement at the presence of
one man? Because John Joseph Pershing stood to
those watching thousands for America herself â&#x20AC;&#x201C; rich,
beautiful America â&#x20AC;&#x201C; who would send food to the
hungry, arms to the soldiers and, if need be, millions of
brave men to fight for right against might.
While Pershing was in Paris he visited the tomb of
Napoleon, with General Joffre as his escort. There an
honor fell to him that had never before been bestowed
upon any man. The sword of Napoleon was taken
from its case and placed in his hands that he might kiss
the hilt. The cross of the Legion of Honor, which had
once been Napoleon's, was also placed in his hands.
The next day after this visit a great reception was
given by the people of Paris to Pershing and Joffre. As
the two generals stood on a balcony looking down at
the excited crowds, a young girl below suddenly cried
out: "Long live Joffre who saved us from defeat! Long
live Pershing who brings us victory!" At these words
the wildest cheering burst forth from the multitude.
In his short stay in the city every possible minute of
Pershing's time was filled up with dinner parties, a visit
to the Senate, a delightful lunch with Joffre, and
ceremonies of various kinds. The American
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John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

commander also went to the tomb of Lafayette, the
noble Frenchman who had long ago come to the aid of
America in the darkest hours of the Revolution.
Reverently Pershing placed a wreath of roses on the
tomb, with joy in his heart that his own loved country
was about to pay the debt she had long owed France.
But time was pressing as important work had to be
done, the biggest job that ever faced a soldier. So, as
soon as possible, Pershing set up his headquarters, with
Joffre and Foch to help him make plans for his part in
the war. One hundred thousand soldiers would soon
be in France. These would be followed by others.
To begin with, airplanes, tanks, and artillery in great
quantities must be provided, as well as the food and
clothing that must be brought across the Atlantic in
abundance for the men who were arriving by tens of
thousands.
All these things had to be considered and planned
for. General Pershing also gave much thought to ways
for keeping his soldiers happy and contented. When
not busy in the camps and trenches they must be
entertained. Ministers of the Gospel must also be at
hand to give them comfort when lonely or ill. The Red
Cross must be helped in every way to do its noble work
most successfully.

193

The Americans

Training camps were soon set up for the American
soldiers, where they were to learn their A, B, C's in
European warfare. So fast they learned there that they
astonished their teachers. Wonderful to tell, scarcely a
year passed before they showed themselves, under the
skillful direction of their commander, ready to fight
like veterans of war.
For many months, however, they were not fitted to
meet the German foe as one united army. In the
meantime their spirit to win grew ever stronger. So did
their longing to get into the fight and show what
American men could do in the cause of justice.
With Pershing at their head how could they help
longing to get into the fight? Had he not said:
"Germany can be beaten. Germany must be beaten.
Germany will be beaten ?" It was for them to show
themselves valiant soldiers as quickly as possible. It was
for them also to trust in God as their commander bade
them. It was for them, Pershing's army, to be an honor
to their country which had never before fought for
anything but freedom, and it was to fight through them
for freedom now.
And yet, during Pershing's first year in France, there
was much to make him heavy in heart. In the spring of
1918 the sky looked blacker than ever. The British
army was thrown back. Then, rushing furiously on, the
194

John Pershing - America’s Leader

Germans made their way towards Paris, the heart of
France. Full well their leaders knew they had no time
to lose. American troops were arriving in the country
by tens – by hundreds – of thousands. It must be now
or never. Six months later – perhaps three even – the
Huns would fail before the onslaught of immense new
armies.
Now! No delay then! Day after day therefore the
Hun pressed on. Nearer and nearer they came to Paris!
At last only thirty-nine miles kept them from their goal.
The roar of battle could be heard in the streets of the
great city. Shells from long-distance guns were already
destroying its buildings. Airplanes were hurling bombs
down upon its citizens each night.
A few days more! The Germans smiled grimly as
they thought of what was to happen then. Surrender of
the Allies! Glorious victory for themselves !
Then suddenly came a change. A division of
American troops which included Marines was rushed
to the front. There was a gap there in the French lines,
and they were to pour in and fill it. On they hurried to
the battle ground, packed together in trucks and cattle
cars, when there was no better way of getting there.
When they reached the danger point the French
commander bade them turn back. He thought they
were too late to give help.
195

The Americans

But they and their brave leader did not listen. They
dashed forward with wild yells. Into the very teeth of
the monster machine guns they rushed, armed only
with their rifles and bayonets.
"Don't go in this direction. There are the boches
with machine guns," shouted some French soldiers
who felt they were on the way to certain death.
"That's where we want to go. That's where we've
come three thousand miles to go," was the answer
hurled back.
Great was the surprise of the Germans, already sure
of victory, to meet men like these fierce, careless of life
beyond any they had ever known. So this was the kind
of fighting they were to expect from Americans! At the
thought fear entered their hearts.
When the fight ended many of that brave division
had lost their lives. But the enemy had been checked in
its march towards Paris! The tide had turned! A path
to victory had opened!
All over France the story traveled. Everywhere
there was the wildest joy. Gloom had vanished. Men
and women, boys and girls, talked of the brave
Americans who had saved the day. And more were
crossing the ocean â&#x20AC;&#x201C; hundreds of thousands more!

196

John Pershing - Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

France would be saved through their coming. The
whole world was to be saved.
When Marshal Foch was made
commander-in-chief of the armies of the Allies, no one
was more pleased than General Pershing. He saw that
the war could be carried on with quicker success if
there were one head for all. Gladly he put his own army
under Foch's direction.
The great Frenchman had begun to see what stuff
that army was made of. When six weeks after the
fighting at Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Woods, he
began the Great Drive to final victory, he ordered a
large part of the attacking force to be made up of
Americans. He also placed American troops in the
center of the line that would keep back any possible
approach of the enemy towards Paris. It was the place
of honor.
From that day in July till the eleventh hour of the
eleventh day of November the drive, once started, kept
up without stop. With new life, with new strength, with
new hope, the armies of the Allies kept pushing the
Huns eastward over the land they believed they had
made their own. And none fought more gloriously
than the American troops fired by the spirit of John
Joseph Pershing, the coolest and bravest of leaders. He
had made his men like himself.
197

The Americans

The first time they fought as a united body, Marshal
Foch set a great task for them to do. They were to drive
out the powerful German army from that part of the
country called the St. Mihiel salient. The Huns had
held it from almost the beginning of the war. It was
strongly fortified. "Rock-bottomed and steel-ribbed" it
has been described. Behind it lay the powerful fortress
of Metz. Moreover, those young, little-tried Americans
were given ten days in which to accomplish the task.
Under their cool, wise, brave leader, John Joseph
Pershing, who had unbounded faith in them, they
succeeded, and succeeded so thoroughly and quickly
as to astonish the whole world. They had been given
ten days, remember. They did their work in thirty
hours!
From that time on the Huns were pressed back so
fast that they were kept in constant confusion. They
failed to get their supplies and ammunition as regularly
as they should. Thousands upon thousands were killed
and taken prisoners. They lost courage. They grew
weak with fear of the terrible new army – the American
army – that was upon them.
Then came the day that brought gladness to many
millions of people – the day when Germany begged for
an end to the bitter fighting – the day when the fighting
stopped at eleven o'clock in the morning.
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John Pershing - America’s Leader

"I am glad I was in at the finish with Pershing," was
the common thought that day of tens of thousands of
American soldiers. They had suffered many things –
cold and hunger and pain and loneliness. They had
met dangers too terrible to describe. But under their
strong, wise leader they had fought without flinching.
With their help right had overcome might.
And their commander, who has since said of them,
"Their deeds are immortal, and they have earned the
eternal gratitude of our country " – how did he feel
when the good fight was finished? As the long line of
bonfires burned along the borders of "No Man's Land"
that night of November 11, telling the world in words
of flame that the blackness of war was at an end,
Pershing's heart must have been filled with joy that his
great task was so nobly finished, and the cause of
justice and freedom was triumphant.

199

Let Us Save the Kiddies*
At 12:20 noon, on Saturday, May 1, 1915, there
steamed out of New York harbor one of the largest and
fastest passenger ships in the world. It was the
Lusitania, flying the British flag, and bound for Europe,
via Liverpool. On board were nearly two thousand
men, women, and children. They were not
overcrowded, however, for the Lusitania was the finest,
the most comfortable of ocean boats. It was more than
an eighth of a mile in length, 88 feet in width, and 60
feet in depth, and had a speed of nearly 30 miles an
hour.
Her passengers, once out from shore, settled down
to seven days of life in this immense, floating hotel.
Tiny babies toddled across the smooth, shining floors
of the new home, or watched with gurgles of delight
the older children rollicking and romping over the
decks. The women chatted and sang, and played all
sorts of games. The men, too, engaged in many
contests, athletic stunts, and games. At night, when the
little ones were quietly sleeping in their bunks, their
*

From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood

200

Let Us Save the Kiddies

elders gathered in the grand saloon and there listened
to some fine singer, a famous violinist, or a great
lecturer.
So the days passed, the people living as one great
family. New friendships grew, and many delightful
acquaintances were formed. The complete harmony
and restfulness of such a life, the clear skies and
sunshine, and the vast expanse of blue-green ocean, all
made them forget that they were riding into a region of
horror and war.
For nearly ten months Belgium, England, France,
and Russia had been waging war against Germany.
Around England's coasts lurked the horrors of the
German submarine. The travelers on the morning of
sailing had read the warning against crossing. It has
since been called the ''Death Notice." It read:
Imperial German Embassy
Washington, D.C., April 22, 1915.
Travelers intending to embark on the Atlantic
voyage are reminded that a state of war exists
between Germany and her allies and Great
Britain and her allies; that the zone of war
includes the waters adjacent to the British Isles;
that in accordance with formal notice given by
the Imperial German Government, vessels
flying the flag of Great Britain or any of her
201

The Americans

allies, are liable to destruction in those waters;
and that travelers sailing in the war zone on
ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their
own risk.
It had been printed in the newspapers beside the
advertisement of the sailing of the Lusitania, and was
posted that very morning by order of Count von
Bernstorff, German ambassador to the United States.
But most of the travelers paid no attention to the
notice after reading it, for they were sure that no
implement of war would be turned against a passenger
ship. With stout hearts, many of the travelers said, "We
are Americans. No country will refuse respect and
protection for an American citizen in any part of the
world." Or they said, ''We are British citizens, â&#x20AC;&#x201D; not
soldiers. We are on a merchant vessel â&#x20AC;&#x201D; not a
battleship. Surely our rights will be respected. We cross
under necessity."
So they dared to exercise their freedom and their
rights when they boarded the steamer for this return
trip.
After sailing for five days in safety they came at last
within sight of land. Early on Friday morning a heavy
fog had lowered, but the ship continued to plow
steadily through the tranquil waters. Toward noon the

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Let Us Save the Kiddies

fog lifted and the sunshine and blue sky came to view,
contributing to the full enjoyment of the travelers.
They had just finished luncheon. Some were
quietly writing letters â&#x20AC;&#x201D; others playing games. Many
had strolled to the upper decks. They greeted their
new acquaintances, regretting that they were so soon
to part, for they were now but ten or fifteen miles out
from shore off "Old Head of Kinsale," and within a few
hours all would land, going on their separate ways for
the rest of the journey. Though they were nearing a
world at war, all seemed peaceful.
The ship's clock pointed at two, when a few men
standing on deck saw what looked like a whale rising
from the water about three quarters of a mile away.
They saw it speeding toward them, and suddenly they
knew what it was; but no one named it, until with a
train of bubbles it disappeared under the ship, and they
cried, "It's a torpedo!"
With a fearful explosion, the center of the ship was
blown up through the decks, making a great heap of
wreckage. The passengers fled from the lower to the
upper decks, many of them not stopping for life
preservers. Some of those who did strap on the life
preservers did not put them on correctly. Many leaped
into the water, trusting to be picked up by a passing
boat. Although every one was terribly frightened, yet
203

The Americans

there seemed to be no panic. The men lowered the
lifeboats, which were crowded to the full. As many as
seventy or eighty people, it is said, were packed into
one small boat.
Leslie N. Morton, a mere lad, has been officially
named as bravest of the crew. He was stationed on the
starboard side, keeping look-out, when the torpedo
struck. He, with the assistance of his mate, rowed a
lifeboat for some miles, put the people on a fishing
smack, and returned again for other survivors, rescuing
in all nearly a hundred.
There were many acts of heroism among the
passengers, but in all of the distress one young man
stood out among the hundreds upon the ship. Alfred
G. Vanderbilt. a young American millionaire, quickly
realizing that the steamer was sinking, turned to his
valet and cried, ''Let us save the kiddies!" The two
sprang to the rescue of the babies and small children,
carrying two of the little ones in their arms at a time
and placing them carefully in the lifeboats with their
mothers. Mr. Vanderbilt and his valet continued their
efforts to the very last. When they could find no more
children, they turned to the assistance of the women
that were left. When last seen, Mr. Vanderbilt was
smilingly, almost happily, lending his aid to the
passengers who still remained on deck.
204

Let Us Save the Kiddies

The whole civilized world honors the memory of
this brave youth, who gave his life in serving helpless
women and children. Gratifying indeed it is to know
that the little ones were cared for, though sad to learn
that even then only twenty-five of the hundred and
twenty-nine babies on board were saved. About one
hundred children were innocent victims of that
dastardly deed which the Germans, through savage
desire to terrorize, became brutes enough to do.
Elbert Hubbard, a noted American writer, and his
wife went down with the ship. Charles Frohman, a
leading producer of plays, was another prominent
American lost. He has been cited as the finest example
of faith and calm strength, for, realizing that there was
little hope for him, he smilingly remarked, ''Why fear
death? It is the most beautiful adventure that life gives
us."
In less than twenty minutes after the torpedo
struck, nothing except floating pieces of wreckage
strewn on the disturbed surface of the water marked
the place of the great calamity.
The wireless operator had sent the S. 0. S. signal of
distress several times, and also had time to send the
message, "Come at once, big list, 10 miles south of 'Old
Head of Kinsale.' " He had received answers before his
apparatus was put out of use, and soon trawlers and
205

The Americans

pilot boats came to the rescue and brought to shore
those who had survived. The cold ocean water,
however, had made many so numb that they were
unable to help themselves enough to be lifted into the
lifeboats, even when the life preservers had kept them
afloat. Of the 159 Americans on board, 124 perished.
In all, only 761 people were saved; 1198 perished.
That day the terrible news came over the cable to
America, â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the great passenger steamer Lusitania had
been torpedoed by a German submarine; probably a
thousand lives had been lost, among them many
Americans!
At the White House, the President realized the
awful import of such a message.
In a day or so, nearly two thousand telegrams
poured in from all parts of the country; and it is said
that the President read them all, for he wanted to know
how the individual American felt.
The Germans offered all sorts of excuses for their
cruel deed. A German paper printed the following:
Must we not, we who may be defeated by
starvation and by lack of war materials, must we
not defend ourselves from this great danger
(with which the enemy's blockade threatens us),
with all our might and with all the means that
206

Let Us Save the Kiddies

the German spirit can invent, and which the
honor of the German people recognizes as
lawful weapons? Have those, who now raise
such outcries, any right to accuse us, those who
allowed their friends and relatives to trust
themselves on a ship whose destruction was
announced with perfect clearness in advance?
When our enemy's blockade method forces us
to measures in self-defense, the death of
non-combatants is a matter of no consequence.
A blockade of an enemy's ports is, and always has
been, a perfectly fair kind of warfare. In our Civil War,
the southern ports were, from the beginning,
blockaded by the northern warships. Germany was in
no danger of starving, as the events since have proved.
Her excuses were, as they have been in every case
where she has played the part of the brute, worse than
no excuses and always based on falsehoods.
''The steamer carried ammunition for England,"
they said. But it was bought and carried in accordance
with international law. Germany had the same right to
buy and carry from a neutral country. ''It was a British
ship,â&#x20AC;? they said. But it was a passenger ship and carried
nearly two thousand people, many of them Americans,
who, according to all international agreements, were
guaranteed safe passage even in time of war.
207

The Americans

All nations recognize the obligation of an enemy to
visit and search the vessel they think should be sunk, to
make sure it carries contraband of war, and if so, to
give the people an opportunity to get safely into the
lifeboats. Not only did the Germans not do this, but
they did not even signal the ship that it was about to be
sunk. The newspaper warning put out by Bernstorff
was no excuse for committing an unlawful, inhuman
act.
From all points of view, the Germans, in sinking the
Lusitania, committed a horrible crime, not only against
international law, but against humanity and
civilization. In all war, armed forces meet armed forces;
never do armed forces strangle and butcher the
innocent and unprotected. There is such a thing as
legitimate warfare, except among barbarians.
Here again was shown the German attitude in the
''scrap of paper." Evidently trusting to the great
distance of the United States and her well-known
unpreparedness, Germany thought that a friendly
relation with this country was a matter of entire
indifference to her; or, if she hoped to draw America
into the war, she little dreamed to what end those
hopes would come!

208

Let Us Save the Kiddies

Around the world one verdict was pronounced
against Germany. This verdict was well worded in a
Russian paper, the Courier:
The right to punish these criminals who
violate the laws of humanity belongs first and
foremost to the great American Republic.
America knows well how to use this right. The
sympathy of the civilized world is guaranteed
her beforehand. The world is being suffocated
by poisonous gases of inhuman cruelty spread
abroad by Germany, who, in the madness of her
rage, is committing needless, purposeless, and
senseless murder, solely from lust of blood and
horrors!
The American government, upon the occurrence of
the calamity, showed great forbearance, believing that
"a man of proved temper and tried courage is not
always bound to return a madman's blow." A strong
protest was sent to the Imperial German Government,
which caused Germany to abandon for a time her
submarine attacks upon neutral vessels. It was the
renewal of these attacks that finally led to the
declaration of war by the United States of America
upon Germany and her allies, and it was the Lusitania
outrage more than any other one event that roused the
fighting spirit of America.
209

Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Standard *
"I suppose that from the first America has had one
particular mission in the world. Other nations have
grown rich, other nations have been as powerful as we
are in material resources; other nations have built up
empires and exercised dominion. We are not alone in
any of these things, but we are peculiar in this, that
from the first we have dedicated our force to the
service of justice and righteousness and peace.
"The princes among us are those who forget
themselves and serve mankind. America was born into
the world to do mankind's service, and no man is an
American in whom the desire to do mankind's service
is not greater than the desire to serve himself.
"Our life is but a little plan. One generation follows
another very quickly. If a man with red blood in him
had his choice, knowing that he must die, he would
rather die to vindicate some right, unselfish to himself,
than die in his bed. We are all touched with the love of
the glory which is real glory, and the only glory comes
*

From Lest We Forget by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
210

Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Standard

from utter self-forgetfulness and self-sacrifice. We
never erect a statue to a man who has merely
succeeded. We erect statues to men who have
forgotten themselves and been glorified by the
memory of others. This is the standard that America
holds up to mankind in all sincerity and in all
earnestness."
-Woodrow Wilson

211

The Last Fight*
"Hurry there! All aboard â&#x20AC;&#x201D; all aboard!"
The American Boy in khaki hurried down the gang
plank and boarded the great troopship as he heard the
warning. The scene of embarkation at the Atlantic port
was so thrilling that he had stopped as long as he could
to watch it. He was a small-town boy, not so long
through High School, and the war spirit and the war
bustle of the city on the Atlantic coast to which his
troop train had brought him was more exciting than
anything he had ever seen in all his life before.
Mingled with cases of ammunition and machinery,
carts, and horses, and mules, all waiting their moment
for embarkation, the Boy had seen a pressing throng
on the wharf made up of all the Americans he had ever
read of in his school history or known and made
heroes of in his everyday life.
Painted Feather, an Indian boy of direct descent
from a Choctaw chief of the old Colonial days, stood
beside a cowboy there on the dock; their ranches lay
*

From Broad Stripes and Bright Stars by Carolyn Bailey
212

The Last Fight

side by side out in Montana. The Boy himself had
touched shoulders with a stalwart colored lad wearing
the same uniform as his. And there had been that
glorious mob of other Americans; big league ball
players and the famous men of the College gridirons,
automobile and motorcycle racers, the men who dared
any adventure in making the movies, fearless railroad
engineers, truck drivers who loved danger, the boys
who held in their hands the trust of our wealth which
their fathers had earned, and the boys who could work
tractors and dig and build and shape machinery. It was
a pretty fine crowd to be one of, the Boy thought, all
wearing khaki and all lined up under the Stars and
Stripes. The best part of it all, though, he decided, as
the gang plank was hauled up, was to be steaming off
for Europe in this particular kind of way.
France had asked them all to come and England
had sent this troopship from her big gray fleet to bring
them. It was the beginning of the greatest adventure
they had ever known.
No, that wasn't quite the way he wanted to put it,
the American boy began to feel, as his home shore
slipped out of sight and there was nothing to be seen
but sky and sea and the convoys that guarded them
from the night and day hazard of foes beneath the
water. France had sent for him. England had come for
213

The Americans

him with her ship. It was his adventure, the American
boy knew. He could hardly wait for it as the ship
throbbed on her long way, slowed, and then made her
triumphant docking at a French port.
France, as the Boy had read of it, and looked at its
pictures, was a kind of fairyland place of unfailing
plenty and pleasant living and peace. As the troop train
which was to carry him to the battle front started and
he pushed to a place where he could look out of a
window, he knew exactly what he was going to see.
There would be little thatched, green villages nestling
in the hollows of hills that were thick with sheep and
fragrant with orchards. Every French village would
have its square towered church, and the larger gray
towns with their factories and smoking chimneys, each
had its beautiful cathedral whose lace-like towers were
higher than the chimneys. There would be miles of
neat little farms and storied castles lying securely in
their old parks and guarded by century old trees.
Nearly every one would be busy ploughing and
planting and tending quaint shops and keeping their
cottages thriftily and making precious things with their
hands. Surely no enemy force, however strong, would
hurt such a life as that.
But the American Boy, straining his eyes from the
window of the troop train, saw nothing of this. He saw
214

The Last Fight

instead empty, shell torn fields and broken roads. The
only landmarks were the ruins of what had once been
homes and churches. From time to time a road would
be filled with rickety wagons pulled by slow farm
horses, and spilling over with their loads of furniture
and household utensils. Very old men and women and
little children walked beside these and they all had
their arms full of the things they held most dear, the
babies who couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t walk, their tools for gardening,
their pet rabbits and their birds in wicker cages. Some
of these refugees were crying, and all had a look of fear
and horror and despair in their faces that was new to
the American Boy. Something must have hurt them
almost beyond healing; something that was their right
had been taken away from them, he realized. He had
not thought very seriously before why America was
sending an army to France. He had been so thrilled at
the thought of being a part of it, himself, of perhaps
meeting the German's flying circus in the air.
Now he knew. The American Expeditionary Force
had come to help take that look of terror out of the
faces of the refugees and to see to it that no free born
American ever experienced the same horror. It was
more than an American adventure. It was a fight to
preserve the freedom that had begun with the landing
of the Pilgrims. It was particularly his fight, the fight of
215

The Americans

the American Boy who had inherited freedom as his
birthright.
The Front, too, was very different from what he had
imagined it would be like; it was so colossal, so
gigantic, so like a great new business. Wiring telephone
lines, rebuilding roads and bridges, cooking, nursing,
and burying the dead was going on as if for a whole
state. The Boy had never felt so alone in his life, and
never had he been in such a crowd. Every highway was
a tangle of loaded ambulances, gray motor-trucks, the
officers' cars, endless lines of artillery, supply trucks,
field kitchens and motor cycles that zig-zagged their
course through the smallest spaces in the mass of
traffic. Marching toward his command, the Boy was
dazed by the turmoil he found himself in; the shouting
of mule drivers, the cracking of whips, the popping of
the cycles, and the horns of the motors mingled, and
there was the incessant cannonade of the guns toward
which they were moving that grew louder every
moment.
The Boy was glad when the march ended and the
time came for him to begin his work. Even there, at the
front of the Front, it was the same, an organized
business of the advance. Every one had his own part in
it, and was doing it valiantly, as if it was his war.
Painted Feather was scouting. A famous American
216

The Last Fight

baseball player had shown that he could throw hand
grenades under fire. Some of the movie men were
painting a hospital in camouflage, also under fire, and
a football hero was rushing into machine gun nests to
bring back the wounded of his company.
Everything was ready for the Boy the day his part
came. His aeroplane, eager for the wind, and as clumsy
on the field as a sea fowl unused to the land, was oiled
and already throbbing with the mighty whir of the
screw.
"She's working like a bird," the machinist said as the
Boy climbed in between the planes.
There was a gasp, like a cry of mingled fear and
hope, as the engine and the aeroplane rose from the
field and began climbing as up a spiral staircase, farther
and farther away from the earth. Everything below
shrunk to toy-size as the Boy glanced down. The
soldiers ran to and fro like puppets, the red cross on the
hospital roof was only a patch of color, and then a gust
of air met him and shook him as if his machine had
been a straw. He was rising in enormous leaps and
making his entry into the land of the clouds. It was
colder, although it had been summer down below on
the earth. The Boy's hands felt like stones and his heart
thumped in time with the steady drum beat of the
engine. All around him was a thick white curtain of
217

The Americans

fleece, impenetrable to the eye, but the planes guided
him through it and into mazes of cloud, always higher
and farther on. Still he drove ahead until he was several
miles within the German lines.
He wished he could see something. Strangely
enough he remembered a verse that he had heard once
in church: "Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again
that I may die in mine own city!''
But the Boy suddenly heard the deafening burr of
another propeller almost upon him. An enemy plane
nosed its way through a cloud bank and was upon him
in an instant.
Just one thought flashed through the mind of the
boy.
"We're both like birds. I'm the eagle, and that
German plane marked with black is a buzzard like
those that fly over the dead. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Here goes the
American eagle!''
Then he dived, rose, touched his gun, fired, and
watched the buzzard drop, its trail marked by a line of
flame. There wasn't any time to lose, he knew, as he
turned his machine, took the course back and skimmed
along through the white banks. A rain of fire pursued
him, but he circled, rose, banked, dropped and escaped
it. At last the firing stopped and his land of clouds
218

The Last Fight

became very still. And there, in front of him, he could
see the white spires of a city.
It was an American town, just like his home town.
There were the same elm trees almost touching across
the streets, and the same comfortable houses with
service flags hanging in the windows. Children were
racing home from school, the factory was running and
the stores were full of food. Everybody seemed just as
usual, busy and happy and free. The only thing that
made this town in the clouds different from his, the
American Boy saw, was the crowd of strangers on the
edge of it, reaching out their hands toward its homes
and smiling with a wonderful kind of joy. Where had
he seen those people before, the Boy wondered? Then
he remembered. He had seen them as refugees along
the broken roads of France.
Just a dream picture, of course! The Boy dipped,
and suddenly saw the trenches that made the
foreground of his section of the line. He dropped
safely, but as he looked his aeroplane over he thought
again of that city in the clouds.
It was more than an American town, it was a world
city now. It was built of the same logs that the
Colonists had hewed and made into a stockade of
freedom. That was why it had heard the call of a people

219

The Americans

in captivity and had sent its sons to help in a war to
preserve the world's freedom.
''My fight!'' the American Boy said, ''and I did my
best in it."

220

How Our Boys Go to Battle *
After a long night trip of broken, jolting sleep on the
straw-covered floor of a cattle truck, you detrain at a
tiny depot, of which you know nothing except that it is
"somewhere in France."
If you are lucky there will be coffee in the station
canteen. More likely you munch a biscuit or sandwich,
and get a drink of water from your own bottle.
In the misty twilight that comes before dawn, you
pile yourself and your equipment into a big square
camion, whose canvas cover is camouflaged with
patches of green and brown.
With hundreds of companions you sleep some,
waking now and then as a bigger bump than usual
disturbs you.
About eight o'clock there may be a halt, for the field
kitchens to hurry out a good breakfast of cocoa, stew
and bread, or just coffee and bread if you have been
brought up to a French breakfast.
*

From Stories of Americans by William Allen and Clare Kleiser

221

The Americans

After that the journey is a nightmare of dust and
heat. So thick is the dust you can hardly distinguish
more than one or two of the long line of camions in
front of you.
You jog along at some five miles an hour until noon,
when there is another halt for dinner, and perhaps a
half hour's rest in a dusty meadow by the roadside.
In the afternoon there is more dust, and worse heat.
You think that you could not be more uncomfortable,
but you are mistaken, for about four o'clock the
camion enters a road that runs through a forest as dark
and dense as an African jungle. Thence through the
dusk you dimly see ambulances flit past; or camions
rumbling heavily, like your own, some empty, others
bearing wounded on stretchers arranged crosswise.
There are high-powered staff cars, also weary plodding
infantry, or cavalry trotting on sweating horses. A line
of prisoners passes, shabby and dejected; and mule
teams, whose steeds and drivers alone seem to have
energy to show bad temper towards every one.
Now and then at a cross road, there is a tie up,
quickly disentangled by a curt Frenchman or a big
Irishman whose instructions are snapped out in good
plain English.
Suddenly you are startled by a terrific burst of
sound, seemingly right above your head. The first
222

How Our Boys Go to Battle

shock passes, you realize that it is only a big gun talking
to the boche ten miles away, and not an air bomb or a
German shell, as you at first imagined.
At last you reach the outskirts of the forest and you
leap gladly from the camion for the evening meal.
You pass the night in a little wood, and this time
sleep soundly, untroubled by the cannon that booms
continually.
If the unit is to "go in" immediately, you are
awakened the next morning while it is still dark for a
hurried meal. After eating your breakfast you feel more
cheerful. Then comes the final march for battle. You
swing forward in the cool twilight, your nervousness
mixed with thrill of excitement. You know you will do
your utmost, so will the companions beside you do
their utmost. And may the right be victorious!
â&#x20AC;&#x201C; New York Times

223

Joyce Kilmer*
The first poet and author in the American army to
give up his life for the cause of freedom was Joyce
Kilmer. Like Alan Seeger, another American poet who
fell fighting in the Foreign Legion of France, Joyce
Kilmer greatly loved life. He loved the flowers and
birds and trees. Probably his finest poem is one which
he wrote about trees. He loved the people around him,
impatient only with those who did not love and make
the most of the life that God had given them. He loved
children, and simple everyday things, as he shows in
one of his latest poems, "The Snowman in the Yard.''
"But I have something no architect or gardener ever
made,
A thing that is shaped by the busy touch of little
mittened hands;
And the Judge would give up his lovely estate,
where the level snow is laid,
For the tiny house with the trampled yard, the yard
where the snowman stands."
After his graduation from Columbia University in
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
224

Joyce Kilmer

1908, he became a teacher of Latin in the high school
at Morristown, New Jersey, his home state. He seemed
but a lad himself, â&#x20AC;&#x201D; tall, with stern, dark eyes, a clear,
musical voice, and a winning smile. Jovial, gracious,
and gentlemanly in his manners, he made many friends
both in his home state and in New York, where he
soon took his wife and little son to live.
In college he had written some poetry. In New York
he hoped to write more. He began his career there as
editor of a journal for horsemen. But he did not remain
at this work long. He became in turn a salesman in a
large New York book store, an assistant editor, and
then an editor. When the war broke out, he was a
member of the staff of the New York Times. He had
written several poems, and prose articles for popular
magazines and periodicals. At the age of twenty-five he
was widely known, enough of a celebrity, in fact, to
have his name appear in ''Who's Who in America."
He liked adventure, as does any American youth.
He was always glad to visit a friend who had met with
an accident or any other unusual circumstance. He
found himself in what he considered an interesting and
entertaining predicament when in New York he was
struck by a train and had to be carried to a hospital.
"Such things did not happen every day,'' he said, and he
took the experience in good humor.
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The Americans

Soon after landing in France, he wrote a description
of a long march made by his regiment. At the end of
the march, the men were too weary even to spread out
their blankets, but dropped down to rest on the floor of
the loft in the French peasant home where they were
billeted for the night. But even that experience was new
and interesting. Later, when the men were somewhat
rested, they missed one of their mates, and on going
down stairs found him with his frozen feet in a tub of
cold water furnished him by the peasant woman. The
little girl of the home was on his knees, and the two
boys were standing beside him â&#x20AC;&#x201D; as Joyce Kilmer
described them â&#x20AC;&#x201D; "envying him" his frozen feet.
He also found interesting work at the front, in
connection with the trench newspaper, The Stars and
Stripes.
At the dawn of a dark and misty Sunday morning in
July, his regiment was ordered to charge across the
river Ourcq and take the hill beyond, from where the
enemy's machine guns were pouring down a withering
rain of bullets. His own battalion, he learned, was not
to be in the lead. So he promptly asked and obtained
permission to join the leading battalion.
Across the river they charged and for five days
fought for the heights. But Joyce Kilmer was not there
to witness the victory.
226

Joyce Kilmer

In the fiercest battles, the bravest officers often go
before and lead their men into the fight, thus
encouraging them more than if following them or
charging at their side. The fight beyond the Ourcq was
a fierce one, and the chief officer dashed on ahead of
his men. Touching elbows with him was Sergeant
Kilmer. When the battalion adjutant was killed, he
served, although without a commission, as a sort of aid
to the battalion commander.
To the very heights he rushed, and threw himself
down at a little ridge where he might peer over and
seek out the hidden enemy machine gun battery. It was
there, lying as if still scouting, that his comrades found
him, so like his living self that they did not at first think
him dead.
They buried him at the edge of a little wood, called
the Wood of the Burned Bridge, close to the rippling
waters of the Ourcq, and at the foot of the
unforgettable hill.
Deep and keen was the loss felt by his comrades and
his officers. From their pockets many of the men drew
forth verses written by the poet about some incident in
the trenches or some comrade who had been lost.
One of the poems to a lost soldier was read over the
poet's grave. A refrain, supposed to be sounded by the
bugle, is repeated through the verses, and as these lines
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The Americans

were read the sad notes of "Taps'' sounded faintly from
the grove. On his little wooden cross were written the
simple words: "Sergeant Joyce Kilmer,'' then his
company and regiment, and ''Killed in Action, July 30,
1918."
But Joyce Kilmer and his verses will long live in the
minds and hearts, not only of his comrades in battle,
but of all Americans.
TREES
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer.
228

The Quality of Mercy *
There is an old saying, ''Like king, like people,"
which means that the king is usually not very different
from the people whose executive he is. If this is true of
kings, it surely must be true of American presidents.
With this in mind, contrast the German Kaiser,
William II, with Abraham Lincoln. The first constantly
talked of himself and God as ruling the world.
Boastfully declaring that he was the greatest of all men
and that he ruled by divine right, the former German
emperor brought upon the world the greatest evil that
has ever befallen it through selfish ambition for
himself, his family, and for the German autocracy; the
other claiming to be a common man, a servant of men,
seeking no riches, no throne, no personal power,
entirely unselfish, gave his life at last to save a united
democracy. Shall we not say that Lincoln served by the
right of the divine qualities in him, while the Kaiser
turned the world into a hell because of the selfish aims
of his nature â&#x20AC;&#x201D; aims that are just the opposite of
divine?
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
229

The Americans

During the American Civil War, Mrs. Bixby, a
Massachusetts mother, lost five sons. President
Lincoln wrote her the following letter : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"I have been shown in the files of the War
Department a statement of the Adjutant General of
Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who
have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how
weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which
should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss
so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering
to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks
of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our
Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your
bereavement and leave you only the cherished memory
of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must
be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar
of freedom."
During the World War, Frau Meter, a German
mother, lost nine sons. Kaiser William wrote her the
following letter : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
''His Majesty the Kaiser hears that you have
sacrificed nine sons in defense of the Fatherland in the
present war. His Majesty is immensely gratified at the
fact, and in recognition is pleased to send you his
photograph, with frame and autograph signature.''

230

The Quality of Mercy

Is it necessary to add a word to make one who reads
the two letters understand the difference between the
two rulers and the two ideals they represent? God is
man's highest ideal of good. Which represents this
ideal, Lincoln or the Kaiser? The United States or
Germany?
A poet says of the Kaiser's letter : â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
"What bit of writing plainer tells
That neither love nor mercy dwells
Within his heart ? What picture grim
Could better paint the soul of him?"
The Kaiser was reported to have said that no family
in Germany had escaped loss. Perhaps he was
"gratified" at this as he was at the fact that Frau Meter
had lost nine sons. One family in Germany lost neither
father nor any one of the six adult sons, â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the family of
Kaiser William II. Certainly no other family in
Germany of such a size escaped loss. Would the Kaiser
have felt equally "gratified" if his six sons had given up
their lives in fighting Germany's war of plunder and
conquest?
In the last days of the war, American soldiers found
upon a German prisoner a postal card with a picture of
Quentin Roosevelt lying dead beside his airplane.
Below was printed in German the statement that
America was so short of fliers, that she had to use her
231

The Americans

presidents' sons. Germans could not understand that
in America the presidents' sons would be the first to
offer their services and for work of the most dangerous
kind. The sons of the Kaiser were carefully kept out of
danger.

232

When the Tide Turned*
The American Attack at Chateau-Thierry and Belleau
Wood in the First Week of June, 1918
By Otto H. Kahn
AN ADDRESS AT THE UNITED WAR WORK
CAMPAIGN MEETING OF THE BOSTON ATHLETIC
ASSOCIATION, NOVEMBER 12, 1918

Why the Tide was Fated to Turn
These are soul-stirring days. To live through them
is a glory and a solemn joy. The words of the poet
resound in our hearts: "God's in His heaven, all’s right
with the world."
Events have shaped themselves in accordance with
the eternal law. Once again the fundamental lesson of
all history is borne in upon the world, that evil —
though it may seem to triumph for a while — carries
within it the seed of its own dissolution. Once again it
is revealed to us that the God-inspired soul of man is
unconquerable and that the power, however
formidable, which challenges it is doomed to go down
in defeat.
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
233

The Americans

A righteous cause will not only stand unshaken
through trials and discomfiture, but it will draw
strength from the very setbacks which it may suffer. A
wrongful cause can only stand as long as it is buoyed up
by success.
The German people were sustained by a sheer
obsession akin to the old-time belief in the potent spell
of ''the black arts'' that their military masters were
invulnerable and invincible, that by some power â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
good or evil, they did not care which â&#x20AC;&#x201D; they had been
made so, and that the world was bound to fall before
them.
The nation was immensely strong only as long as
that obsession remained unshaken. With its
destruction by a series of defeats which were incapable
of being explained as "strategic retreats," their morale
crumbled and finally collapsed, because it was not
sustained, as that of the Allies was sustained in the
darkest days of the war, by the faith that they were
fighting for all that men hold most sacred.
To those who were acquainted with German
mentality and psychology, it had been manifest all
along that when the end foreordained did come, it
would come with catastrophic suddenness.

234

When the Tide Turned

Where the Tide Turned
It is the general impression that the tide of victory
set in with Marshal Foch's splendid movement against
the German flank on July 18th. That movement, it is
true, started the irresistible sweep of the wave which
was destined to engulf and destroy the hideous power
of Prussianism. But the tide which gathered and drove
forward the waters out of which that wave arose, had
turned before. It turned with and through the supreme
valor of our marines and other American troops in the
first battle at Chateau-Thierry and at Belleau Wood, in
the first week of June.
The American force engaged was small, measured
by the standard of numbers to which we have become
accustomed in this war, but the story of their fighting
will remain immortal and in its psychological and
strategic consequences the action will take rank, I
believe, among the decisive battles of the war.
I am not speaking from hearsay. I was in France
during the week preceding that battle, the most
anxious and gloomy period, probably of the entire war.
What I am about to relate is based either on
authoritative information gathered on the spot, or on
my own observations. In telling it, nothing is farther
from my thoughts than to wish to take away one tittle
from the immortal glory which belongs to the Allied
235

The Americans

armies, nor from the undying gratitude which we owe
to the nations who for four heart-breaking years, with
superb heroism, fought the battle of civilization â&#x20AC;&#x201D; our
battle from the very beginning, no less than theirs â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
and bore untold sacrifices with never faltering spirit.
Just Before the Tide Turned
On the 27th of last May the Germans broke
through the French position at the Chemin des Dames,
a position which had been considered by the Allies as
almost impregnable. They overthrew the French as
they had overthrown the British two months earlier.
Day by day they came nearer to Paris, until only
thirty-nine miles separated them from their goal. A few
days more at the same rate of advance, and Paris was
within range of the German guns of terrific destructive
power. Paris, the nerve center of the French railroad
system and the seat of many French war industries, not
only, but the very heart of France, far more to the
French people in its meaning and traditions than
merely the capital of the country; Paris in imminent
danger of ruthless bombardment like Rheims, in
possible danger even of conquest by the brutal invader,
drunk with lust and with victory! As one Frenchman
expressed it to me: "We felt in our faces the very breath
of the approaching beast.''

236

When the Tide Turned

And whilst the Hunnish hordes came nearer and
nearer, and the very roar of the battle could be dimly
and ominously heard from time to time in Paris, there
were air raids over the city practically every night, and
the shells from the long-range monster guns installed
some sixty or seventy miles distant fell on its houses,
places, and streets almost every day.
They were not afraid, these superb men and women
of France. They do not know the meaning of fear in
defense of their beloved soil and their sacred ideals.
There was no outward manifestation even of
excitement or apprehension. Calmly and resolutely
they faced what destiny might bring. But there was
deep gloom in their hearts and dire forebodings.
They had fought and dared and suffered and
sacrificed for well-nigh four years. They had buried a
million of their sons, brothers, and fathers. They were
bleeding from a million wounds and more. They said:
''We will fight on to our last drop of blood, but alas! our
physical strength is ebbing. The enemy is more
numerous by far than we. Where can we look for aid?
The British have just suffered grave defeat. The Italians
have their own soil to defend after the disaster of last
autumn. Our troops are in retreat. The Americans are
not ready and they are untried as yet in the fierce
ordeal of modern warfare. The Germans know well
237

The Americans

that in three months or six months the Americans will
be ready and strong in numbers. That is why they are
throwing every ounce of their formidable power
against us now. The Hun is at the gate now.
Immeasurable consequences are at stake now. It is a
question of days, not of weeks or months. Where can
we look for aid now? ''
And out of their nooks and corners and hiding
places crawled forth the slimy brood of the
Bolshevik-Socialists, of the Boloists, Caillauxists, and
pacifists, and they hissed into the ears of the people,
"Make peace! Victory has become impossible. Why go
on shedding rivers of blood uselessly? The Germans
will give you an honorable, even a generous peace.
Save Paris! Make peace!''
The holy wrath of France crushed those serpents
whenever their heads became visible. Clemenceau, the
embodiment of the dauntless spirit of France, stood
forth the very soul of patriotic ardor and indomitable
courage. But the serpents were there, crawling hidden
in the grass, ever hissing, ''Make peace!''
And then, suddenly out of the gloom flashed the
lightning of a new sword, sharp and mighty, a sword
which had never been drawn except for freedom, a
sword which had never known defeat â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the sword of
America !
238

When the Tide Turned

The Turning of the Tide
A division of marines and other American troops
were rushed to the front as a desperate measure to try
and stop a gap where flesh and blood, even when
animated by French heroism, seemed incapable of
further resistance. They came in trucks, in cattle cars,
by any conceivable kind of conveyance, crowded
together like sardines. They had had little food, and
less sleep, for days.
When they arrived, the situation had become such
that the French command advised, indeed ordered,
them to retire. But they and their brave general would
not hear of it. They disembarked almost upon the field
of battle and rushed forward, with little care for
orthodox battle order, without awaiting the arrival of
their artillery, which had been unable to keep up with
their rapid passage to that front.
They stormed ahead, right through the midst of a
retreating French division, yelling like wild Indians,
ardent, young, irresistible in their fury of battle. Some
of the Frenchmen called out a well-meant warning:
''Don't go in this direction. There are the boches with
machine guns.'' They shouted back: ''That's where we
want to go. That's where we have come three thousand
miles to go." And they did go, into the very teeth of the
deadly machine guns. In defiance of all precedent they
239

The Americans

stormed, with rifle and bayonet in frontal attack,
against massed machine guns.
They threw themselves upon the victory-flushed
Huns to whom this unconventional kind of fierce onset
came as a complete and disconcerting surprise. They
fought like demons, with utterly reckless bravery. They
paid the price, alas! in heavy losses, but for what they
paid they took compensation in over-full measure.
They formed of themselves a spearhead at the point
nearest Paris, against which the enemy's onslaught
shattered itself and broke. They stopped the Hun, they
beat him back, they broke the spell of his advance.
They started victory on its march.
A new and unspent and mighty force had come into
the fray. And the Hun knew it to his cost and the
French knew it to their unbounded joy. The French
turned. Side by side the Americans and the French
stood, and on that part of the front the Germans never
advanced another inch from that day. They held for a
while, and then set in the beginning of the great defeat.
I was in Paris when the news of the American
achievement reached the population. They knew full
well what it meant. The danger was still present, but
the crisis was over. The boche could not break
through. He could and would be stopped and

240

When the Tide Turned

ultimately thrown back, out of France, out of Belgium,
across the Rhine and beyond!
The aid for which the sorely beset people of France
had been praying, had arrived. The Americans had
come, young, strong, daring, eager to fight, capable of
standing up against and stopping and beating back
German shock troops specially selected and trained,
and spurred on by the belief in their own irresistibility
and the exhaustion of their opponents. The full wave of
the hideous instruments of warfare which the devilish
ingenuity of the Germans had invented, liquid fire,
monstrous shells, various kinds of gasses including the
horrible mustard gas, had struck the Americans
squarely and fully, and they had stood and fought on
and won.
The French, so calm in their trials, so restrained in
their own victories, gave full vent to their joy and
enthusiasm at the splendid fighting and success of the
Americans. The talk of them was everywhere in Paris.
Hundreds of thousands of American soldiers already in
France, thousands coming upon every steamer,
millions more to come if needed â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and they had
shown the great stuff they were made of! All gloom
vanished, overnight. The full magnificence of the
French fighting morale shone out again â&#x20AC;&#x201D; both

241

The Americans

behind the lines and at the front. "Ils ne passeront pas!"
''On les aura.'' *
And the Bolshevik-Socialists, Boloists, weak-kneed
pacifists, and that whole noisome tribe slunk back into
their holes and corners and hiding places, and never
emerged again.
And, as the people of Paris and the poilus at the
front correctly interpreted the meaning of that battle in
those early days of June, so did the supreme military
genius of Marshal Foch interpret it. He knew what the
new great fighting force could do which had come
under his orders, and he knew what he meant to do
and could do with it. It is an eloquent fact that when six
weeks later he struck his great master stroke which was
to lead ultimately to the utter defeat and collapse of the
enemy, American troops formed the larger portion of
an attacking force which, being thrown against a
particularly vital position, was meant to deal and did
deal the most staggering blow to the enemy; and other
American troops were allotted the place which from
the paramount responsibility attaching to it, may be
termed the place of honor, in the center of the line, in
immediate defense of the approaches to Paris.
They made good there — officers and men alike.
*

“They shall not pass!” “We will get them.”
242

When the Tide Turned

They made good everywhere, from Cantigny to
Sedan. They made good on land, on the seas, and in
the air; worthy comrades of the war-seasoned heroes
of France and Great Britain, worthy defenders of
American honor, eager artisans of American glory.
When for the first time the American army went into
action as a separate unit under the direct command of
its great chief, General Pershing, Marshal Foch allotted
them ten days for the accomplishment of the task set
for them, i.e., the ejection of the German army from
the strongly fortified St. Mihiel salient, which the
enemy had held for four years. They did it in thirty
hours, and made a complete and perfect job of it.
I have had the privilege of seeing these splendid
boys of ours, in all situations and circumstances, from
their camps in America to the front in France â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the
boys and their equally splendid leaders. The sacred
inspiration of what I have thus seen will stay with me to
my last day.
I confess I find it hard to speak of them without a
catch in my throat and moisture in my eyes. I see them
before me now in the fair land of France â&#x20AC;&#x201D; brave,
strong, ardent; keen and quick-witted; kindly and clean
and modest and wholly free from boasting;
good-humored and good-natured; willingly submissive
to unaccustomed discipline; uncomplainingly
243

The Americans

enduring all manner of hardships and discomforts;
utterly contemptuous of danger, daring to a fault,
holding life cheap for the honor and glory of America.
What true American can think of them or picture them
without having his heart overflow with grateful and
affectionate pride?
As I observed our army ''over there," I felt that in
them, in the mass of them, representing as they do all
sections and callings of America, there had returned
the ancient spirit of knighthood. I measure my words.
I am not exaggerating. If I had to find one single word
with which to characterize our boys, I should select the
adjective ''knightly.''
A French officer who commanded a body of French
troops, fighting fiercely and almost hopelessly in
Belleau Wood near Chateau-Thierry (since then
officially designated by the French Government as the
Wood of the Marine Brigade), told me that when they
had arrived almost at the point of total exhaustion,
suddenly the Americans appeared rushing to the
rescue. One of the American officers hurried up to him,
saluted and said in execrably pronounced French just
six words: "Vous — fatigues, vous — partir, notre job."
''You — tired, you — get away, our job." And right
nobly did they do their job!

244

When the Tide Turned

Almost every soldier who goes into battle leaves a
letter to be read in the event of his death. Sturgis
("Spud") Pishon, a former famous college athlete,
serving in the American air forces in Italy, before his
fatal flight wrote this letter, so full of the strength and
simplicity of a great soldier:
"What little I have to give to my country I give
without reservation. If there ever was a righteous cause
it is ours, and I am proud to have worked and died for
it.
"Pray God this war will be over soon and that it will
be the last war.
"I leave you with a smile on my lips and a heart full
of love for you all. God bless you and keep you."
Sturgis

245

To France
What is the gift we have given thee, Sister?
What is the trust we have laid in thy hand?
Hearts of our bravest, our best, and our dearest,
Blood of our blood, we have sown in thy land.
What for all time will the harvest be, Sister?
What will spring up from the seed that is sown?
Freedom and peace and goodwill among Nations,
Love that will bind us with love all our own.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Frederick George Scott
In The Battle Silences, Constable & Company

246

The British

248

Sir Douglas Haig â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Englandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader*
Douglas Haig became the commander of the
principal military camp in England in 1912. No one
saw more clearly than he that British soldiers must be
trained well, for ahead of them there might be hard
work, which would need the greatest skill.
As it happened, General Haig had visited Germany
years before. While there he had noticed the care taken
in the training of German soldiers. He had also noticed
many preparations being made that would render it
possible for Germany to fight if war should break out.
At the same time he saw the love of power of the
German people, and how that power could grow if the
country gained new possessions. She had already taken
Alsace-Lorraine away from France. What might she
not do next?
When this clear-eyed general returned to England,
he said, "A war with the Kaiser will surely come. We
must prepare ourselves for it."
Did those who heard him heed his words? No, they
*

From Leaders to Liberty by Mary Wade
249

The British

believed there could be no possible danger. Why, it was
foolish to consider such a thing, they declared. England
wanted to be at peace with other nations, and without
doubt they had the same wish for themselves.
So the years passed, and Great Britain made no
preparations, while Germany went steadily on, making
her armies better trained and her forts stronger. At the
same time German inventors were preparing more
deadly weapons than ever known before to bring
destruction upon those to whom their country might
not feel friendly.
At last, in the year 1914, the Great War burst upon
the world. Few besides General Haig had discovered
the shadow of its coming.
From his post at the Training School of Aldershot
he heard that little Belgium, through being faithful to
her word, was in sore danger. Hordes of Germans, on
their way to France, had broken in upon her peaceful
fields. They had started out well-prepared. They
believed that by marching through Belgium, they could
easily reach Paris. With Paris conquered, the whole of
France would quickly be theirs. Then how easy it
would be to cross the English Channel and bring Great
Britain to kneel at Germany's feet.
And then, with Great Britain's ships-of- war made
powerless to help, the German troops would cross the
250

Sir Douglas Haig – England’s Leader

ocean and invade the United States. How simple it
seemed to the warlords of Germany to make the whole
civilized world their prize.
Not a moment must be lost. All of Sir Douglas
Haig's countrymen agreed with him as to this. The
British soldiers must be banded together without delay
to cross over to the mainland and meet the onrush of
the Germans.
Unfortunately, the brave youths of Great Britain
were not prepared for the terrible conflict ahead. Yet
the men who made up "the contemptible little English
army," as the Germans scornfully spoke of it, were
prepared to do the best they could. Two Army Corps
were made ready with all possible speed to go to the
rescue of France and Belgium. They were in charge of
Lord French to whom Douglas Haig had been the
right-hand man while fighting in South Africa.
General Haig was made commander of one of the
army corps, which held a large part of the cavalry. He
was soon in the thick of the fighting – more terrible
than any he had ever dreamed of before. Now he had
a chance to show what he had learned in past years. He
also had the chance to show what kind of soldier the
County of Fife could still produce – how strong and
steady of nerve, how full of courage a man's heart could
be.
251

The British

The first months of the war were among the hardest
of all for that brave First Corps. There could be no letup, if they were not to give way before the onrushing
Germans.
"Our foes must be driven back across the Marne, if
they are not to win speedy victory," the British
commander-in-chief, General French, saw clearly, as
did General Joffre, commander of the French army.
But alas! the German army was vastly larger than the
number of English and French troops which could be
brought against them.
"What of that! Victory lies in the will," thought
Haig, who was still General French's right-hand man.
Always believing in success, he kept up the courage
of his men so that each one among them strove to act
as a hero should, and was ready to attack anew when he
caught sight of the "man of iron " who commanded
them. Haig forgot himself entirely at such times. He
only saw the need of checking the course of the
terrible, heartless foes.
Let us look at the soldiers of the Allies for a
moment, as they were fighting the first battle of Ypres,
when the invaders were determined to push on till they
reached the seacoast of Belgium. Many times their
number were the Germans, and with the military
training of years.
252

Sir Douglas Haig – England’s Leader

The British troops had to be drawn out in places
into the thinnest of lines. Against them were heavy
masses of the enemy. Yet with Haig as leader they
dared death hour after hour. They must bring glory to
him and to their country.
Had not Lord French given the command, "You
must hold?" And was not Haig, the man of dauntless
will, with the First Corps that day, when more men
were so sorely needed that even cooks turned from the
preparations for dinner, and orderlies left their usual
camp duties to join the fighters in the trenches? The
fighting was terrible and bloody, but under the brave
man of Fife the enemy were checked. Henceforth that
First Corps would be known as the "Iron Brigade." The
leader had made his men like himself men of iron.
In the midst of the battle, down the shadowy road
of death, rode a horseman with shrieking shells
bursting about him, and men dying from sudden
wounds on every hand. Yet he moved as calmly and
peacefully as if out for pleasant exercise on a holiday.
At sight of their commander the weakest-hearted of
his men returned to the fight. His straight figure,
dressed as carefully as for parade, his strong chin, his
fearless, blue-gray eyes all said: "Now is the time, –
now, now, to dare your utmost."

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The British

The presence of Douglas Haig no doubt turned the
fortunes of the British that day. The German army was
stopped in its course. It failed to reach the coast across
which lay England. It had been checked through the
will of an army many times smaller than itself. And the
will of that army was made strong and steady through
the will of the man from Fife.
Only a few days after that ride, every moment of
which was filled with danger, General Haig had a very
narrow escape from death. He had just left
headquarters to examine the lines of troops. He left
behind him his staff officers. Suddenly a shell sent out
by the Germans burst in their midst. Almost all the
officers gathered there were killed or wounded. But
their chief who had been with them so short a time
before had escaped.
"A lucky dog," his men called him when they heard
of what had happened. But this was not the first narrow
escape the great general had had in his life. Years
before, in South Africa, he had been saved a number of
times almost by accident, as some might say. But not
so! He had work ahead a great work that only he might
do and death had to stand back before him.
From the beginning of the war the
commander-in-chief's report gave great praise to
General Haig. He wrote of the skillful way in which he
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Sir Douglas Haig â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Englandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

had directed the First Corps when his troops had to
retreat from Mons. It was in the blackness of night. If
one wrong move had been made, they would have
become powerless in the hands of an enemy far greater
in number than themselves. But General Haig made
the right move, and when morning came the First
Corps had reached a place of safety.
Soon afterwards, at the Aisne, the bold,
clear-headed leader got his troops into such a
commanding position that General French was able to
make a stand there for over three weeks, though the
attacks of the enemy were very fierce.
Eighteen months of bitter warfare passed. Many
were the daring, skillful deeds of General Haig during
that time.
But the war was not going as well for the Allies as
they wished. Many people had begun to find fault with
the British army. They said, "General French is a fine
man and a great soldier, but he has made some sad
mistakes."
They considered what he had done in the Sudan
and in South Africa. There was nothing to be said
against his fighting there. He had led his men wisely
and gained great victories. But this present war, with its
trench fighting, was far different from any other in the
history of the world, and the present commander did
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The British

not seem to understand trench fighting as well as he
had understood the battles in the open in Africa.
"Someone else may do better in his place," it was
suggested.
Who would do better than General French? Only
one man could be thought of, General Haig.
And yet, before 1914, this Fifer had never
commanded in action a larger body of men than a
regiment! Since the Great War opened he had
commanded a corps, to be sure. But now to be placed
at the head of four millions of men, â&#x20AC;&#x201C; to have full
charge of the whole British army in France and
Flanders! Was it possible for him to succeed ?
Every one felt, however, that some change must be
made. So the word went forth, "Let Haig have his try."
We know now what his "try" meant in saving the
world from the power of the Huns. At the head of the
British army General Haig kept on his careful, patient
way toward final victory. Victory would come! Oh, yes,
he was always sure of this. But not as quickly as some
believed and all hoped. The enemy were strong in
number. They had large supplies of food and
ammunition. And as they did not scorn to treat the
sacred agreement with Belgium as a scrap of paper, so

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Sir Douglas Haig – England’s Leader

they did not scorn to use unheard-of cruelty in their
warfare.
For instance, there was the use of poison gas which
was set free to suffocate the armies opposed to them.
There were the submarines with which Great Britain's
navy had to fight long and faithfully. Other inventions
there were – guns of tremendous power, and Zeppelins
to raid the air.
In the face of all these terrors the new
commander-in-chief pushed steadily on, thinking,
planning far ahead. There was the Somme offensive,
for instance. Haig was preparing for it through long
months.
You know how a mouse makes a way for itself
through a strong wall. Bit by bit it nibbles into the
wood, a little today, and a little more tomorrow, and
the next day; and so on, till at last it has worked out a
passage through the darkness and into the light.
So it was with the determined Scotchman, and
those who watched him came to speak of the "Haig
nibble" which was bound in the end to bring his troops
through what seemed the darkness of failure out into
the light of success.
So the days and the weeks and the months went by
with General Haig steadily at his post. Each morning
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The British

found him at his desk at nine o'clock, ready to talk over
what was happening with the heads of the different
departments of the army. On his desk reports were
piled up of what had taken place during the night.
Every one must be studied, for something might have
happened in the hours of darkness which would
require an important change in commands.
Thus the time passed till lunch, after which the
commander spent a quiet hour by himself. He needed
to think over all he had seen and read and heard, and
discover if his plans required changing.
Then came a short period of recreation, when Sir
Douglas Haig went out for a ride on horseback. No
matter how hard it might rain he took this ride, with
one or two officers to keep him company. He knew
that without the help of outdoor exercise he might not
keep strong in body and clear in mind.
When the ride was ended there were more talks
with war leaders in the headquarters office, and fresh
news to discuss. Then came a pleasant dinner when the
commander-in-chief showed kindly thought for those
who gathered around the table with him. Soon
afterwards the household settled down for the night's
rest.
Could the war-chief always seek rest early like the
others? Surely not! Many a night while they were
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Sir Douglas Haig – England’s Leader

sleeping he must have spent hours studying his maps
and aerial photographs, while he planned how best his
armies should carry on the fight.
There were many gloomy and dangerous times
when the hearts of great numbers of the Allies were
heavy. But never would Sir Douglas Haig allow himself
to think of anything but final victory. Even when the
outlook was very black – it was after the Germans had
begun their terrible drive in the spring of 1918 – he
kept his men filled with hope and courage.
"The British army must be broken." So the German
high command had decided. The great offensive began
on March 21. On poured the tremendous German
army, spread out in lines extending nearly sixty miles.
It drove onward in dense masses, sending forth a
deluge of gas. The thunder of its big guns roared
through the air for miles around, and gas clouds spread
far over the earth.
Haig realized only too well how great was the
danger: the army massed against his own was at least
twice as large; it also had far greater power of guns.
Clear in head and strong of will, however, as always, he
gave his commands, even though at times they must be
for his men to fall back before the awful drive of the
enemy.

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The British

Day after day the battle raged â&#x20AC;&#x201C; yes, week after week
while fresh divisions of German troops kept arriving to
take the places of those which had been shattered.
Weary and worn were the hard-pressed British
soldiers now. Yet still they fought with all their might,
kept up by the will and the faith of their leader. Never,
in all history, were braver deeds done than by those
British troops in the early spring of 1918. Never was a
nobler spirit shown than that of the men under Sir
Douglas Haig. Never were greater heroes than those
inspired by him.
Yet still they were forced back, back, back, till the
time came when they must take a stand and strive to
hold it to the last man. Around them, outside the
fighting lines, was a beautiful world. The sky was of the
softest blue. Birds were singing gaily. Cherry and apple
orchards were in blossom, filling the air with fragrant
odors. The fields were freshly green. It was Sunday the
day that should be one of peace.
But on the wide stretches of the battle ground were
darkness and death and the prolonged and awful
struggle. To the weary British soldiers an order from
their commander had just come.
"Many among us now are tired," he said. "With our
back to the wall each one of us must fight to the end."

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Sir Douglas Haig â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Englandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Leader

Tired and worn indeed were those who received
that command so tired and worn that their bodies kept
moving only because their wills were strong. With their
"back to the wall" yes, they must hold the thought
steady in their tired minds they must, each one of
them, be willing to "fight to the end."
There were hard and terrible days still before them,
but they did not give up; and at last long lines of
French troops came marching up the roads to give
help, and the deadly purpose of the Germans was never
carried out. The iron will of Douglas Haig had kept
strong and mighty the will of his soldiers through a
time of terrible danger, and the might of will is ever
greater than the might of brute force.
Thus the offensive, which the Germans had
planned so carefully and in which they had such high
hopes, finally ended in failure for them. Then, in July,
the Allies, with the aid of American troops, no longer
stood merely on defense, but in turn began a fierce and
steady attack upon the enemy. Under that attack the
German troops were forced steadily backward over the
ground they had taken and, on November 11, 1918,
the terrible warfare came to an end. Germany, having
lost all hope of success, asked for an armistice and her
request was granted.

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The British

No longer could the roaring of guns be heard. No
longer were men losing their lives in the greatest war of
history. No longer did General Haig, patient, untiring,
determined, need to study his maps and direct new
attacks. Peace was at hand. Now at last, after years of
faithful service, he had finished his great task, deserving
full well to rest on the laurels he had won.

262

The Way to Win
The following verses, written by S. W. McGill, were
given to the editor of Trench and Camp by a lieutenant
colonel of the British army, who said he caused a copy
to be placed in the hands of every soldier coming under
his command.
If you think you are beaten, you are.
If you think that you dare not, you don't.
If you think you'd like to win, but you think you can't?

It's almost a "cinch" you won't.
If you think you'll lose, you've lost,
For out in the world you find
Success begins with a fellow's will:
It's all in the state of mind.
Full many a race is lost
Ere even a step is run
And many a coward fails
Ere even his work's begun.
Think big, and your deeds will grow.
Think small and you'll fall behind.
Think that you can, and you will;
It's all in the state of mind.
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The British

If you think you're outclassed, you are.
You've got to think high to rise;
You've got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man;
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the fellow who thinks he can.

From Stories of Americans by William Allen and Clare Kleiser
264

â&#x20AC;&#x153;I Knew You Would Comeâ&#x20AC;? *
On a dark night a raid on the German trenches was
made, and in the party were two brothers, English lads.
The raid was successful, but when the men returned
one of the brothers was missing. The other pleaded for
permission to return and bring him in. The colonel
refused on the ground that the attempt would be both
dangerous and fruitless. Finally, he yielded to the lad's
passionate pleading, and the young soldier crawled out
into No Man's Land, returning a half hour later with a
machine gun bullet in his shoulder, yet gently carrying
the brother, whose spirit rose to the ranks of the
greater army just as they reached the trench. ''You see,
my boy,'' said the colonel, "it was useless, your brother
is gone, and you are wounded." ''No, colonel,'' replied
the lad, "it was not useless. I had my reward, for just as
I found him out there, he said, 'Is that you, Tom? I
knew you would come.' "

* From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
265

James Clark *
(1.)
In these days when the British Army is numbered in
millions and countless men therein are heroes, some
word of explanation is required when, from the hosts
of the dead and the living, one name is singled out for
eulogy or panegyric; but the only apology which I put
forward for this unworthy portrait of a gallant Scottish
soldier is that in his great and complex personality were
combined all the elements which go to form the
highest traditions of our race so that any man who
knows of James Clark knows of the epitome of our
national honour and truth, and of all that is purest and
best in our blood.
Out in the trenches one loses sight of the caste
questions of the homeland â&#x20AC;&#x201C; there are no differences of
blood there, for there is but one blood, the rich red
blood of the strong and the free. And while a man lives,
be he belted earl or simple yeoman, he is but a soldier;
and when he dies he is but another warrior gathered to
*

From The Unseen Host by Charles Warr
266

James Clark

his rest. But when on that awful 10th of May, one
looked on the face of James Clark, slain in battle, the
great frame so calm and still, instinctively one's
thoughts flew far away to the country of his love. "What
will Scotland say," we asked one of another, "what will
Scotland say when she knows?"
And two nights later, she knew. Two nights later the
newsboys raced along the darkened streets of the
northern capital, and "Colonel James Clark killed"
echoed shrilly on the night air. Silent with dismay, men
bought their papers, glanced at the fateful lines and
hurried on their way. James Clark killed! The words
burned in on their senses. Members of the Bar heard it
– James Clark killed! the gleam of old-world chivalry
and romance amid the drab dinginess of Parliament
House, the familiar figure of the Law Courts.
Politicians and men of affairs heard it – James Clark
killed! the tower of strength to Conservatism, the
unwearied leader and worker for the public good. And
far away when the morning's news penetrated into
lonely country villages, the parish clergy read the words
of woe with a catch in the breath – James Clark killed!
the pillar of the Scottish Church.
From the north to the south there was lamentation
in Scotland.

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The British

It is long since any man called forth such
manifestations of sympathy and universal admiration.
But great men are not as the sands of the sea. And in
this generation it is doubtful if there will arise in the
capital of Scotland a figure which can ever replace his,
whose whole life was untiring labour for others and
one long series of ungrudging self-sacrifice for his
fellows. His was that unselfish love which goeth forth
to toil and seeketh no reward, which is content, if need
be, to sweep the crossings in the highway of life while
others sit in the seats of the mighty.
(2.)
Some people still wonder why Clark ever went
abroad. There was no call, he was past age, and years
before had retired from military service. There was
great work to his hand at home, and work which could
have been his with all honour. Those who wonder why,
knew not the man. He who but a short time before was
preparing to take up the sword for Ulster was not likely
to let it rust in its scabbard at the hour of imperial
extremity. And so he went, as one who greatly chose
the path to immortality. He went in that simple
unassuming way in which he did everything; a little
shy, a little self-conscious, overwhelmed with
confusion if anyone were short-sighted enough to
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James Clark

praise him to his face, but with that iron will and
indomitable resolution to do what he conceived to be
his duty which guided all his life. He may have been
right or he may have been wrong, but the fact remains
that James Clark lived and died a very gallant
gentleman, and who are we to judge the acts of such as
he?
I do not speak of him as a well-known public man,
as a great churchman, or as a prominent educationalist
â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that has been done by worthier lips. I simply speak of
him as I knew him, my colonel and my friend. When, in
answer to his offer of service, he came to take over the
command of the Dunbartonshire battalion, James
Clark was faced with no easy task. He was a stranger to
us. He succeeded, as our colonel, a long line of
prominent county men. His traditions were not ours.
He had little or no connection with our West
Highlands. And under these auspices the big silent
man came to take over the reins of government of an
entirely new battalion, amid entirely fresh
surroundings. It was a heavy task, and we waited to see
what manner of man he would prove himself.
His personality did not take long to make itself
known, and soon we realized his spirit stirring in the
battalion, the spirit of strength and love. It was mainly
by love that he ruled us. We early saw that the outer
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The British

mask of irritability was but the outcome of a highly
strung and sensitive nature, that the strange silence and
self-absorption were not assumed to keep us in our
place, but were the fruits of a heart spent in
communion with all things undying. And it was not
long ere the humblest private in our ranks knew that in
the colonel he had a faithful friend. "I've no friends to
help me," once stated a morose defaulter at an orderly
room. "Yes, you have one," replied the colonel, "and his
name's James Clark." And so, looking on his silver hair
and kindly face, his Tommies nick-named him from
the affection of their hearts, and called him " Father
Christmas."
It was because of the love that he made us feel for
him that our battalion covered itself with glory under
his leadership. We would have done anything for
Clark. In him the old traditions of district and county
were swept away, and we were proud of our colonel
with that pride which causeth no shame. He had his
faults â&#x20AC;&#x201C; we all have. It may be that he was a more
brilliant tactician than organizer; that his judgment
occasionally suffered from the tenderness of his great
sympathetic heart. But no man was ever more beloved
by those around him, and no man ever led a battalion
in a grander nobler way, than he whose death darkened
the sun for thousands upon thousands of Scottish
hearts.
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James Clark

(3.)
They were strange qualities that made up his
nature. A lion-like courage and amazing bravery were
co-mingled with the simplicity and tenderness of a
child. It did not take long, when we had crossed the
Channel, before the men began to understand what
kind of man he was, who, during the bombardment of
Ypres, ordered his battalion to remain in cellars, while
he himself walked about organizing stray stretcher
parties while the great shells burst in clouds and the
gutters filled with blood; or what was the nature of one
who wandered about the woods behind the trenches
alone and unarmed, picking bunches of primroses and
violets, or sitting listening to a running stream. And
they loved him for it all with the deep strong passion of
a soldier's love. They will tell you still â&#x20AC;&#x201C; those few who
are left â&#x20AC;&#x201C; how, far more than their leader, he was their
brother and their guide. They will speak of how he
used to lead them at church parade in the old sweet
psalms of their country, his face suffused with an
unearthly light, his whole being throbbing with an
ecstasy of devotion. They will brokenly tell of young
lads sickened by the sight of blood, and of how James
Clark would talk with them as an elder brother might
comfort a younger, bidding them be men for Scotland's
sake. By his example, their dim simple minds began to
realize it possible to be a humble follower of the
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The British

Nazarene and to combine therewith the highest
excellence of manly strength: and many a heart today
thanks God for the precious gift of him who, by his life
and faith, ever taught their aspirations to rise above the
din and tumult of earthly things to that calm eternal
serene, where his own heart and mind had ascended
and continually dwelt.
Had this war not been so vast, more would have
been heard of James Clark. Lesser men in smaller
campaigns have been elevated to the pinnacle of a
people's hero-worship. Great men are born, not made,
and he was a great man. It took a great man morning
after morning to sit by the door of his dugout with his
open Bible in his hand, unashamed before men. And
when one saw him then one seemed to be gazing back
across the centuries, and to hear the voice of old
General Skippon urging his men to pray heartily and
fight heartily and God would grant the victory. That
was the sort of thing James Clark would have said.
The spiritual influence which he brought to bear
upon officers and men alike by his ever open avowal of
his faith and by the still more striking testimony of his
simple godly life, will never lose its effect upon those
who were brought into contact with him. I cannot
imagine Clark, like Swedenborg, drawing out in cold
blood four idyllic Rules of Life; he simply did what lay
272

James Clark

as his duty, and walked before his God with a perfect
heart. In him, the tenets of Epictetus were blended
with the loveliest of Christian faith. He seldom talked;
he acted. And when he had to talk on any serious
purpose, with Pericles he thought it quite worth while
to pray beforehand that not a word might escape him
unsuited to the occasion. Amid this generation to find
a man like that, is like finding a jewel of priceless worth
amid the debris of a stable-yard.
It was he who conducted the burial service over
every man in the battalion who was killed, if at all
within the bounds of possibility; and no priest or
parson have I ever heard commit a brother mortal to
the ground with more beautiful words or with a more
tender pathos than came from our colonel. I can see
him still, on clear moonlight nights, bareheaded by the
open graves â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the big strong sympathetic man. I
remember one night of howling wind and sleet; it was
one of the wildest nights I have ever experienced, and
James Clark was far from well. At the dead of the night
they bore past his dugout the body of a man who had
been killed in the trenches, and they bore it silently lest
they should wake the colonel. But he heard them, and
rousing himself from his bed of straw he insisted on
going with them; and, despite the fact that the
company officer had come for the purpose, Clark
stood in the lashing storm, and tenderly as if he were a
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The British

brother said the last rites over the fallen hero. That was
the kind of man he was. "Your enemies are
calumniating you behind your back," said his friends to
Plato. "I will live so that none shall believe them," was
the quiet reply.
(4.)
For a month on end we had manned the trenches
with no relief. For the latter fortnight we had been
shelled night and day. Through the hours of light and
darkness for fourteen days every conceivable form of
shell was hurled through the air to crash into our midst
with its message of death. We lived in an atmosphere of
sulphured hell. On Saturday, the 8th of May, our
battalion held its line, though, as Mr. Buchan relates,
900 shells dropped into our trenches alone. At four
o'clock on the Sunday morning we retired into some
adjacent dugouts to be called into action again six
hours later. All through that bloody Sunday the
Highlanders were engaged, and were allowed to snatch
a few hours' rest toward the dawn. Almost immediately
the tocsin sounded again â&#x20AC;&#x201C; for the might of the
German Army was hurled suddenly on our line.
Swiftly the men donned their equipment. For about
three days no man had tasted solid food. They were
famished, bright-eyed with weariness, dirty, exhausted,
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James Clark

yet no lip murmured. As we gathered in readiness to go
into the inferno of shells that swept our course, the
colonel came striding through the wood in which we
were resting, to take his place at our head: and on his
signal we started forward. What Plutarch said of the
Spartans was eminently applicable that day to Clark.
"Where are they attacking, sir, and are they in great
force?" asked an officer, for the trench line was
obscured by a small wood.
"I don't know and I don't care," replied the colonel,
with his wonted laugh, "but we're going out to find
them."
The events of that awful day are still as the
phantoms of a hideous dream; the hail of shells, the
smoke of battle, the roar of artillery, the shouts of
maddened half-frenzied men. Yet from the ghastliness
of the whole scene some pictures of beauty have
imprinted themselves on my memory, and one of these
is the figure of a tall noble gentleman, his white
waterproof waving in the breeze, the sunshine kissing
his silver hair, who for hours, amid incalculable danger
and surrounded by death on every hand, stood, as he
had often stood on the training fields of Bedford, and
cheered his men with a smile on his lips and a flash in
his proud fearless eyes. That was James Clark. It was
what we expected of him. He had taught us to expect it.
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The British

Day by day since, months before, we had first entered
into action, by an example of heroism bordering
almost on recklessness he had led us to place that
confidence in him which no power on earth could have
shaken.
It had always been one of the traits of his life most
surcharged with pathos, his strange love for the
championship of lost causes. One of his most intimate
friends has said that he was always ready to die in the
last ditch for a lost cause, and was ever willing to join
with you in laughing at himself for doing so. It was the
outcome of his generous chivalrous soul. No one who
knew him could imagine Clark in league with the
strong against the weak. It was a semi-tragedy that such
a perfect knight should have lived in this era â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in an
earlier one he would have found that ideals such as his
received a higher face-value; and yet it was a blessing,
for in the light of his manhood most of us may learn, if
we will, exactly what are the things that matter.
And it was strangely appropriate that at the hour he
died the cause in which he fought appeared to be
well-nigh lost.
Against the shattered decimated British ranks were
hurled masses of German soldiery, and it seemed that
in all human probability the gate of Ypres was won.
Clark was not to live to see the Brigade perform one of
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James Clark

the miracles of this war, for when evening fell the
British line was as the morning had found it. But he fell,
in death, as so often in life, gallantly fighting what was
apparently a lost and hopeless battle.
We were lining a muddy ditch in an open field when
he was killed. Ten minutes before, a large shell had
burst almost on top of us and the concussion had
stunned and dazed him badly. In vain I pled with him
to leave the field and crawl down to the
dressing-station for a rest. It always evoked the same
reply and the well-known smile, "If you can stay by me,
my boy, I can stay by you."
. . . A blinding crash, a fierce scorching heat, the
heavens reeling and the whole earth in darkness, a
voice which seemed to come from far away, "The
Colonel's killed," â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and I remember no more.
Thus the warrior won his rest, while his "bairns," as
he used to call his men, wrestled with hell. No member
of the 9th Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders can ever
look back upon that day with any other feeling save
high pride and thankfulness; and names such as
Kenneth James Campbell who, through a hurricane of
shells and bullets, wheeled his machine-gun on a
wheel-barrow over two-hundred yards of open ground,
calmly, as if on parade, placed the gun in position, and
then, dazed and blinded by a gas-shell, continued at his
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The British

post until he was killed â&#x20AC;&#x201C; names such as his and that of
Robert Scott Findlay of Boturich, bravest of the brave,
will never be forgotten while Ben Lomond stands
above her waters.
I saw the colonel next and for the last time as he lay
at the dressing-station. He was in no way disfigured,
but seemed like a wearied soldier fast in a dreamless
sleep. The proud strong face which in life had never
blushed for shame, in death was turned fearlessly
towards its Maker. James Clark looked splendid in life:
he looked grand in death. "He was a great gentleman,"
said one of his officers softly, as together we looked our
last on the face we, had learned to love so well. And let
that be his epitaph â&#x20AC;&#x201C; none worthier could be spoken.
Great-hearted, tender, courteous, true, far away where
the violets blossom and the spring flowers are filling
the world with new hope and life, beneath a wooden
cross fashioned by his men, all that is mortal of James
Clark awaits the resurrection of the just.
Not long ago, in the quiet of a Sabbath eventide I
walked among the gardens of the house he loved. A
great quiet was over the world . . . far away in the village
nestling in the blue hazy valley the twilight bells pealed
for evening worship â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the sweet notes fell like a
benediction on the soul. Through the trees the towers
and turrets of the stately castle showed white against
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James Clark

the golden sunset. And as I listened, the whispering
leaves told me their holy secret, that this fretful painracked world is not the abiding place of our souls for
ever.
I felt so happy as I listened. . . .
Among the undergrowth a burn trickled softly, and
as I heard it, remembering some lonely graves far away,
my heart was filled with a perfect peace: and I pray that
at the last, as they who sleep therein were able, so may
I be able to say the words which that burn was singing
as it wimpled to the sea:
Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in
peace, according to Thy word:
For mine eyes hare seen Thy salvation,
Which Thou hast prepared before the
face of all people;
A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of
Thy people Israel.

279

The Truce *
The period of this truce varied in different parts of
the firing line. One officer states: The Germans looked
upon Christmas Day as a holiday, and never fired a
shot, except a few shells in the early morning to wish us
a happy Christmas, after which there was perfect
peace, and we could hear the Germans singing in their
trenches. Later on in the afternoon my attention was
called to a large group of men standing up half-way
between our trenches and the enemyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, on the right of
my trench. So I went out with my sergeant-major to
investigate, and actually found a large party of
Germans and our people hobnobbing together,
although an armistice was strictly against our
regulations. The men had taken it upon themselves. I
went forward and asked in German what it was all
about and if they had an officer there, and I was taken
up to their officer, who offered me a cigar. I talked for
a short time and then both sides returned to the
trenches. It was the strangest sight I have ever seen.
*

From With Our Fighting Men by William Sellers

280

The Truce

The officer and I saluted each other gravely, shook
hands, and then went back to shoot at each other. He
gave me two cigars, one of which I smoked, and the
other I sent home as a souvenir."
Corporal T. B. Watson, Royal Scots (Territorials),
says: "We were all standing in the open for about two
hours waving to each other and shouting and not one
shot was fired from either side. This took place in the
forenoon. After dinner we were firing and dodging as
hard as ever: one could hardly believe that such a thing
had taken place."
Private J. Higham, of the Stalybridge Territorials,
tells of a truce that lasted throughout Christmas Day.
"On Christmas Day the Germans never fired a shot,
and we were walking about the trenches. In the
afternoon about three o’clock the – , who were on our
right, started whistling and shouting to the Germans
whose trenches were only four hundred yards away.
They asked them to come down. . . . After about ten
minutes two Germans ventured out, and the – went to
meet them. When they met they shook hands with
each other, and then other Germans came, and so we
went up to them. . . . I was a bit timid at first, but me
and a lad called Starling went up and I shook hands
with about sixteen Germans. They gave us cigars and
cigarettes and toffee, and they told us they didn’t want
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The British

to fight but they had to. . . . We were with them about
an hour, and everybody was bursting laughing at this
incident, and the officers couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t make head or tail of
it. The Germans then went back to their trenches, and
we went back to ours, and there was not a single shot
fired that day."
"Elsewhere," says a subaltern writing to the Press
Association, "I hear our fellows played the Germans at
football on Christmas Day. Our own pet enemies
remarked that they would like a game, but as the
ground in our part is all root crops, and much cut up by
ditches, and as, moreover, we had not got a football, we
had to call it off."
On Christmas morning some of the Germans
astonished the Gordons by appearing on the top of
their trenches, but the Gordons did not fire on them,
and instead an officer went out to suggest that, as they
had a "Padre" with them, and there were also several
German dead, they should have a truce for a burial
service. It was arranged, and the Germans lined up on
one side of the chaplain and the Gordons on the other.
The service began with the hymn "The Lord is my
Shepherd," and then the "Padre" prayed. After the
burial of the dead, of whom there were about a
hundred, Mr. Adams gave an address, which was

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The Truce

interpreted sentence by sentence by an interpreter sent
forward by a German officer.
The service over, the German officer shook hands
with Mr. Adams and offered him a cigar. Mr. Adams
begged leave not to smoke it, but to keep it as a
souvenir of that unique occasion. The officer
consented, but said he should like some little memento
in return. Hardly knowing what to give, Mr. Adams
took off his cap and gave the officer the Soldierâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
Prayer he had carried in its lining since the war began.
The German officer read it, put it in the lining of his
helmet, saying, "I value this because I believe what it
says, and when the war is over I shall take it out and
give it as a keepsake to my youngest child."
Then the men gathered together, exchanged keep
sakes, and spent their Christmas in perfect unity. Not
a shot was fired that day, nor on the next. It seemed as
though each side was reluctant to fire again, after the
sacred service of Christmas morning.
During a brief visit home Mr. Adams occupied the
pulpit of his own church â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the West U. F. Church,
Aberdeen. In the course of a sermon full of interest he
referred to his strange service on the battlefield. The
Aberdeen Daily Journal thus reports what he said :
"There had been some weird stories told about
Christmas Day. He was not going to deny these stories.
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The British

He was not even going to deny the cigar incident, but
was going to show the cigar. Christmas Day made him
understand something of the size of God. The day
ended for him with the vision of a great German
regiment standing behind their commanding officer
bareheaded, and not so far distant as one gallery from
the other of that church, British officers with their
soldiers bareheaded, and between them a man reading
the Twenty-third Psalm. In the name of the One
Christ, these two foes, the most awful the world had
ever seen, held Christmas. It was the fear of God; the
need of God that did it all."
I have told the story in the simplest language,
without any attempt to give it colouring, because it
seems to me it speaks for itself. It tells that deep down
beneath the uniform, beneath all that makes man true
Briton or true German, there is the bond of
brotherhood. They were Scotchmen, these Gordons,
and I wonder if they thought of the lines of their
Scottish poet :
Man to man the world oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;er,
Shall brithers be for aâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; that.
Is it not a grim tragedy that men who can thus
fraternize on Christmas Day should a few hours after
be sending each other to their death? We look forward

284

The Truce

to the day, and pray God it may not be far distant, when
war shall cease.

285

286

The Allies

288

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader*
Ferdinand Foch was still a young student when the
roar of a wicked war resounded through eastern
France. Prussia had seized a chance to fight for rich
lands there which she wished for her own. The French
army was not so large or so well trained as that of
Prussia. Its commanders were timid and fearful. Its
cannon were not powerful. Prussia, on the other hand,
had generals full of daring who had faith in themselves
and their troops. Plentiful supplies of ammunition, and
guns of great power had been made ready.
So the French failed in attack after attack till at last
there was nothing to do but surrender. Thus it
happened in the early autumn of 1870 that a sad
company rode forth from the old fortress of Sedan in
northern France to make terms with the enemy.
First came the bodyguard of the Emperor Louis
Napoleon. Their polished arms shone in the sunlight.
They wore helmets of steel. Bright pennants waved
from their lances. Behind them rode the Emperor in an
*

From Leaders to Liberty by Mary Wade
289

The Allies

open carriage. He was ill in body and suffering great
physical pain; he could not live long. But the lines in
his thin cheeks and the sadness in his eyes showed that
he was sick in mind as well as in body, and that his
heart was heavy with the sorrow of a shameful defeat.
Last in the procession was a band of Prussian hussars
clattering in steel armor.
In the company attending Louis Napoleon on his
unhappy errand that day was the youth Ferdinand
Foch, so we have been told. He had left his studies
when the war broke out and was now a cadet in the
Emperor's staff at Sedan.
On rode the little procession till it reached the
Chateau Bellevue where the King of Prussia sat waiting
for its arrival.
Louis Napoleon, with his guard about him, entered
the reception hall. The German officers rose when he
stood before them, with the courtesy due so great a
man. Not so the Prussian King. He remained seated,
looking up scornfully. There was no thought in his
mind now, evidently, that only a short time ago he had
been treated royally by the Emperor when he visited
him in Paris. Ah! that had been before this hateful war,
and today he was a proud victor.
Standing there, bent with pain, Louis Napoleon
drew his blade and handed the hilt to the conqueror.
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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

"Sire," he said, "here is my sword." "I take it," replied
the King in an insolent voice. And then, "I give it back
to you."
The young officer Ferdinand Foch listened with
flashing eyes and drew a long breath. So did the rest of
the ruler's staff, at hearing him spoken to with such
contempt. Never would they forget the insulting voice,
the insulting manner. Sometime the punishment
would come to Prussia; it must come for her treatment
of France this day!
So thought young Foch. "The Prussian King meant,
'I'll take care of you,' when he spoke as he did to our
Emperor." he said many years afterwards. That insolent
king, as it happened, was the grandfather of William
Hohenzollern, the Emperor of Germany who, as we
know, led his people into this last war, the greatest and
most terrible in history.
And William Hohenzollern, as we also know, has
shown the same overbearing manner as his grandfather
cruel and without mercy, and daring to set himself up
as a god among his fellow men.
With the end of the short and hateful war the city of
Metz was left in the hands of the Prussians. For many
years Ferdinand Foch was to think of it with sorrow.
He had spent happy months there in the Jesuit school.
He had wandered freely through its noble streets and
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The Allies

fine parks. He had worshiped in its grand cathedral.
But now Prussian soldiers stood on guard behind its
strong walls; the hated Prussian tongue was spoken in
its streets; and in one of the principal places the statue
of the Prussian King was set up for all to admire. Little
desire could the French patriot have to continue his
studies there after the war had ended.
Accordingly he took his examinations as quickly as
possible for entrance into the great Polytechnic
Institute at Paris.
Shortly afterwards he was busy with his studies
there and living very simply, because he had little
money to spend for either food or clothing. Many a
time, so it has been said, he made a meal on black
bread alone. Little this troubled him, however, for his
mind was being fed with the riches of knowledge.
Moreover, he was happy in strong faith in God's
goodness. "God is guiding me," he felt, "so all will be
well."
When a little boy Ferdinand had eagerly listened to
stories about Napoleon. He was only twelve years old,
in fact, when he read a long history of what had taken
place under Napoleon's rule. It was such "heavy"
reading, as we say, that most boys would have been
frightened away at the first page. But young Foch kept
on to the end.
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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

"One can learn much about carrying on war by
studying the campaigns of Napoleon," the youth still
thought when he entered the Polytechnic Institute.
Napoleon, on the very next day after being crowned,
had given the school its motto: "Science and glory all
for the country."
Among Ferdinand's fellow students at the Institute
was the young man, Joseph Joffre, who had entered it
before the war and left his studies to fight for his
country. Now he had returned to finish his course, and
for the first time met his neighbor from the Southland.
In those days Paris was not a happy place.
Everywhere about were ruined buildings, marks of the
siege it had suffered from the Germans. And when
young Foch turned his eyes to the hilltops around, he
could imagine the hated German troops stationed
there as they had been a few months before.
Oddly enough, Ferdinand had a constant reminder
of his childhood on the walls of the building where he
had his room. It was the selfsame inscription that had
been placed over the door of his first school in Tarbes:
"May this house remain standing until the ant has
drunk all the waves of the sea and the tortoise has
crawled around the world."
After graduating from the Polytechnic Institute
young Foch went to other famous schools where he
293

The Allies

received training in cavalry and artillery. From time to
time he stopped in his studies to act as an officer of
artillery in different garrisons.
When he was twenty-seven years old he was made
a captain. Eight years afterwards he entered the
Superior School of War, the highest one of the kind in
France, and from this he graduated, fourth in his class,
in 1887.
After this came more training in garrisons. Foch was
learning, we see, all that could be gained by study and
training how best to carry on war if it should ever take
place.
At last, in the year 1890, he was chosen to be an
instructor at the War College. He had become by this
time a major.
A great work opened before him. From its
beginning he was on fire to make the students under
him understand the meaning of war â&#x20AC;&#x201C; to see it for
themselves â&#x20AC;&#x201C; to live it. Thus, as he talked to them in the
great classroom, the maps spread out before them
changed into actual battle fields. The dots and lines
became hills and valleys and flowing streams. They
themselves were adventuring among them. Behind
yonder wood the army of the enemy was encamped.
On the hillside above, the guns of the enemy were
sending forth torrents of shot and shell. Danger
294

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

surrounded them. They drew long, excited breaths.
Their cheeks flushed. Their eyes were aflame. Paris,
with its gay streets and noise of business, seemed far
away. They were, in their minds, in the thick of
combat, and their leader was the slim man with strong
keen eyes who stood before them. How honest and
determined was this man! How dear to him was his
country and theirs â&#x20AC;&#x201C; beautiful France! Every student
was fired by him with the longing to become a faithful
patriot in defending this revered land.
"Why had the Prussians won so easy a victory?"
Ferdinand Foch asked his pupils. Then he showed
them that the Prussians had faith in themselves, while
the French officers lacked such faith. This was the main
reason the enemy met with success, though making
many foolish mistakes.
"A battle is not lost till you think it is lost." So Foch
taught his students.
Again, he showed them that giving commands is
only one step in the course of an officer's training. He
must see that the command is carried out. He must,
moreover, understand how it shall be carried out, and
he must have faith in the outcome.
Foch believed that without "morale" there would be
failure. What is morale? We have heard this word used
a great deal of late, but many people find it hard to
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The Allies

state just what it means. We know what strength and
health are to the body. So morale is to the mind. A
person who has morale has a healthy mind. No
dragons of fear have a place there. No thought of
failure is allowed to enter. The mind is strong. It sees
only success ahead; and in the present, work steady,
determined work towards that success.
So Foch taught his students. They must make their
brains work. Not words alone, not carrying out orders
alone, were ever enough. Not the blind obedience of
the dog and the horse! But the keen, quick perception
of why they must do certain things. And when they
watched the moves of the enemy they must ask
themselves, "Why are my foes acting as they do? Just
what is their purpose?" Striving thus to understand, the
officers' minds keep clear and their will is steadied.
You can readily see what kind of men left the War
College after being under such training as Foch gave.
Many of his pupils, we are told, have won glory and
honor in the War against War which we have just
passed through.
First of all he impressed upon them that they must
learn to think. "You officers," he said to them, "will be
asked later on to be the brains of an army. Never
complain of the difficulty of a problem. If a problem
were not difficult it would not be a problem. Our
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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

brains were made to be worked. Otherwise, what
purpose do they serve?"
Again he said: "Victory goes to those who merit it
by the greatest will power as well as by the keenest
intellect."
"The will to victory!" In all his teachings Foch
showed the need of this and what it would accomplish.
He believed it, and because of this he made his
students believe it.
Foch was a quiet man in all his ways. In course of
time he married, and had children whom he loved
dearly and in whose life he was deeply interested. But
he did not care for the balls and other gay
entertainments which many of his friends and
acquaintances enjoyed. When, once in a while, he
attended a dinner party he spoke little.
In 1911 he received the order to take command of
a division of troops at Chaumont. The next year a
whole corps was given into his charge. Soon afterwards
he held a post of great honor in the French army: he
was commander of the Twentieth Corps, stationed at
Nancy, not far from the borders of Germany.
Nancy was a beautiful city. But during his stay there
General Foch had no time to take part in its gay life. He

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The Allies

was busy trying to make the place strong against any
possible attacks from Germany.
"When she does attack France her troops will first
strike against this stronghold," he said to himself.
While Foch was in command at Nancy, a young
captain under him there wrote home to his parents
describing the General, whom he admired very much.
Among other things the young man said: "He is a man
still young, slender and supple, and rather frail; his
powerful head seems like a flower too heavy for a stem
so light. "
When the captain wrote that Foch was still young,
he was almost sixty-three years old. Yet he was so quick
and active in his movements that he made those
around him think of him as a young man.
The captain also wrote of the light in the General's
eyes, of the clearness of his gaze, of his great energy, of
his direct speech, and of his strong faith in our
Heavenly Father.
"General Foch," he said, "is a prophet whom his
God transports."
Afterwards, it may be said, the young officer who
wrote this letter gladly gave his life for his country
while fighting under General Foch.

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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

During the latter part of July, 1914, Foch was given
a furlough to visit his home at Molaix where his two
daughters with their little children were staying with
his wife. His daughters' husbands, also with the army,
obtained leave of absence at the same time. Such a
happy family gathering it was for the next few days,
with no thought of trouble!
Then suddenly General Foch was recalled to
Nancy. Joffre, who had become the French
Generalissimo, had scented danger over the
borderland. If the German hordes were preparing to
attack France, in what way would they advance, Joffre
asked himself. From the east, of course, he decided.
And so Foch thought. Why, in what other way
could they come? To be sure there were strong French
forts there at Toul and Verdun and Nancy was strongly
defended. A big army like that of Germany could not
make its way quickly into France from the east.
But in what other way could it enter France? Surely
not from the north, because that would make it
necessary for the German army to pass through
Belgium on its way! The Emperor of Germany was, of
course, too honorable to allow this.
So it was quite natural for Joffre to prepare for the
defense of France on the east first of all, and order
Foch to be ready with his troops at Nancy.
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The Allies

On the fourth of August the terrible war broke out.
It happened to be General Foch's birthday. He was
sixty-three years old. On came the Germans, divided
into five armies, and expecting to overcome the French
troops and take Paris by the first of September. Only
one of those armies was directed against Nancy. The
others headed north and swarmed into Belgium!
And Foch? When that one German army advanced
over the eastern borderland he was ready for its
coming. No doubt the German commander expected
him to defend it, but nevertheless he expected also to
quickly rout the French troops stationed there.
Now Foch believed that the best way to defend is to
attack. Without delay, therefore, his brave Twentieth
Corps fought its way through the middle of the
invading army, and straight on into German Lorraine.
There, for fourteen days, Foch with other brave
generals kept the Germans at bay with their troops.
Unfortunately, the other four German armies at the
north were forcing all before them during this time.
Day after day the same story spread among the
unhappy French people: "Retreat! retreat! retreat!"
"Will Joffre give no other order?" cried those who
lacked faith.

300

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

But there were officers in his army who understood
him better: when the right place was reached and the
right moment had come, he had planned to take his
stand against the enemy. When the river Marne should
be reached the Germans must not be allowed to
advance further.
So Joffre had determined. And now he took
thought of his officers and considered who were best
fitted to be stationed at the most dangerous points. Ah!
there was General Foch. He would create a new army
for Foch, made up of certain strong divisions taken
from the other armies. It should be called the Ninth
Army. He promptly ordered Foch to report at a place
on the Marne called Chalons.
When Foch reached Chalons his new army existed
only on paper.
"What do you mean?" you may say. Just this: the
different divisions that were to form it were still on
their way to Foch. He did not even know where some
of them were, because at that very time they were
retreating before the enemy. Neither did he know how
well supplied they were with arms, or how tired the
men had become from fighting and the hurried march.
Was Foch sick at heart when he considered these
things? Not so! he had taught in the War College that
we fail only when we think we fail. Also he believed
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The Allies

now as before that the only way for an army to defend
itself is by attack. The present was a good time to show
this.
Not a minute was lost. He must get acquainted with
his army as it gathered. He must understand how
strong it was and how weary were the men who were to
carry out his orders. The feet of many of them were
blistered and bleeding from the long, hurried march;
their bodies were aching.
He must see that their courage was kept up. Then
they would forget their lameness and pain in the will to
win.
Up and down the sidewalk of the little village paced
the restless General as he made his plans. He was short
in stature and lean in body. But these things were
scarcely noted by the people who looked in his face.
How keen were those gray eyes! How strong the nose!
How determined the chin! Such a will as that of
Ferdinand Foch would do much in breaking the power
of the enemy.
The Battle of the Marne opened early in
September, 1914, only a month after the beginning of
the war. For five days the French troops met one sharp
attack after another, though the enemy were much
greater in number. Back and forth rolled the tide of
war. On all sides were the dead and dying. Terrible was
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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

the danger to the Allies. If they gave way, the German
hordes could easily press on to Paris, the heart of
France. And then â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
But to Foch, posted with his Ninth Army at one of
the most important and dangerous points, there was
no then. He saw only the present and its great need.
He had sorrows of his own at this time. He was not
able to get word from his son and the husband of one
of his daughters. He feared for their lives. Soon, alas, he
was to learn that both had been killed in battle near the
Belgian border. But now, now, he must think only of
France. And France must be saved.
Considering closely, he decided there must be a gap
in the German army. That gap must be filled in with
French artillery. Quick now! Not a moment must be
lost in pressing that artillery forward. As a powerful
wedge it must enter the gap in the German army and
break it apart.
For five days already the enemy had been battering
against the French troops with greater and greater
force. Their lines were already breaking. Yet now,
though matters looked so discouraging, Foch saw light.
With faith that there was a weak point in the army
of the enemy, he sent this telegram to Joffre: "My

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The Allies

center gives way, my right recedes, the situation is
excellent. I shall attack."
His order for the day, given as quietly as he would
have said "Good morning," was this: "The situation is
excellent. I order a vigorous resumption of the
offensive."
How ridiculous this would seem to many! But not
to Ferdinand Foch, with the thought of his left still
strong and full of fire. Against its foes it now flung itself
and was soon driving them backward in confusion. The
fortunes of France had been turned by what seemed a
miracle. France was saved!
And Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; was he pacing restlessly back and forth
at this time, excitedly waiting for news of the battle?
Not so! Having made his plans and given his
commands, it was his duty to keep calm and leave the
rest to God's will. So he set out with one companion
for a stroll along the country roads that stretched back
from the battle front. As he walked, he talked quietly of
other things than war. Such was his power over
himself.
From that day the Germans retreated slowly but
surely. Foch's will had helped Joffre in his utmost need
and brought victory in place of defeat. Is it strange that
after the Battle of the Marne the commander-in-chief

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Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

said of this strong, wise helper, "He is the first strategist
in Europe, and the humblest of men?"
Before that battle Foch had been little heard of in
the world. But when shortly afterwards he was made a
Marshal of France and a member of the Legion of
Honor because of the great work he had done, his
name was coupled with that of Joseph Joffre on every
tongue.
One day, a few months after the famous battle,
Foch happened to be seated at a dinner table with
some of his officers. They drew him into talk about the
Marne.
As he went on describing it, he spread out some
matches on the table. He made them represent the two
armies â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the German and the French. To one
particularly brave division of his own troops, the
Forty-second, which was nearly dead from weariness,
but full of fire, he gave only half a match. He made it
move under his fingers as he described its forcing back
a German corps. After it, he said, "We launched some
played-out troopers. It was all we had left."
Then Foch lifted the half-match of the
Forty-second Division and tossed it over to the center
of the table.

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The Allies

"It might succeed," he said; "it might fail. It
succeeded. The men were on their last legs, they hadn't
an ounce of strength left. They marched all the same."
One of Foch's officers has written a book about
him. After telling of his courage at the Battle of the
Marne, he went on : "But what I can least of all forget
is his look which reveals his whole soul.
"Back of its invincible energy was a sorrowful
tenderness, a great melancholy. At certain moments his
eyes seemed to say, 'Young man, you do not know
what a father suffers when mourning has entered his
house forever. They have taken my son, and one of my
daughters is a widow. In the home which I left in the
joy of a summer Sunday I shall find little orphans who
will not know their papa. â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
"'Our France has been torn and mangled. There are
thousands and thousands of fathers like me who have
lost everything they loved, all the hope of their lives.
My heart is with them. I know what it means.'"
In less than a month after the Germans had been
driven back at the Marne, Joffre sent a telegram to
Foch, saying that he had chosen him to be his
Associate Generalissimo. In other words Foch was to
share with Joffre the command of the army.

306

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

"Leave at once for the north, where you are to take
charge of all the troops there." Such was the order
which Foch hastened to obey.
When the telegram came he well understood the
great danger that now threatened France. The
Germans had been turned back at the Marne from
advancing to Paris. Now they were seeking to reach the
sea on the north and cut off the ports there from the
British and the French. If they succeeded they could
prevent supplies from reaching the armies of the Allies.
They could also prevent the coming of fresh troops
from England.
Foch knew that not a single moment must be lost.
Springing into an automobile at ten o'clock that night,
he rode as fast as possible to the headquarters of
different generals who were to help him band together
a strong army. That army, under him, must cut off the
enemy's forces in their race to the sea.
Working with a will, he made his army so united
and strong that it proved to be a mighty wall in the
pathway of its foes, and they were blocked at Ypres and
afterwards at Flanders. For two weeks the fighting was
terrific. The Germans made one fierce attack after
another, but the troops of the Allies, with Foch to lead
them on, met each attack with a return attack.

307

The Allies

"Our enemies must not, shall not, gain the coast," so
the great leader had decided. Then, cool as ever, he
flew from one place to another with a smile half hidden
by his big gray moustache and carelessly chewing the
end of a cigar.
At this trying time he gave wise advice to King
Albert of Belgium and to the English commander,
Marshal French. He helped both to feel that they were
sure to win. He seemed to be everywhere at once,
giving aid when it was most needed.
One night he heard that the English cavalry had
given way and lost an important position. He sprang
into his car and hastened to the headquarters of
Marshal French. It was one o'clock when he reached it.
The Marshal was asleep.
Waking him up, he said, "Marshal, your line is
broken."
"Yes," was the reply.
"Have you any reserves?" Foch asked quickly.
"No, I have nothing."
"Good! I offer you mine. The gap must be filled at
once. If we allow our line to be pierced at a single point
we are lost by reason of the masses of attack of our
enemy. General Joffre has sent me eight battalions of

308

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

the Thirty-second Division. Take them and on with
the fray."
The Marshal, deeply moved, rose and seized Foch's
hand. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. "This is famous
help."
In an hour the order had been given and the gap in
the lines had been filled.
At another time Foch gave help like this to the
Belgian army. Then, to add more courage, he said to its
leader, "You must hold out at any cost. See! Here is a
line for you to hold."
With these words he spread out a map. Pointing to
a place where there was an embankment, he showed
where water could be let in from locks not far away. If
this were done, the oncoming Germans would slump
in the marsh thus made, and their advance would be
checked. Foch's quick wit had seen this. His advice was
followed, and the day was saved.
Then, in 1916, came the Battle of the Somme, when
Foch's careful plans were so well carried out that the
Allies swept the Germans back, took a wide stretch of
country, and captured great numbers of prisoners.
Foch, as we know, had helped the Belgians and the
British in times of great need. He also aided the Italian
army when it was sore pressed. More than a year
309

The Allies

before this happened he had looked ahead and formed
the plan by which he was afterwards able to aid them.
After the Battle of the Somme all the world rang
with the name of the hero, Ferdinand Foch.
"He is the greatest soldier the world has ever
known," cried some. "How strange." they said, "that a
man who did scarcely any active fighting till now when
he is old, should understand it better than generals
who have been engaged in many wars!"
Most people would have become proud at such
renown. But not so Marshal Foch, the man of few
words, who was almost shy when he found himself in
large gatherings. It troubled him to be pointed out and
talked about as a great hero. Joffre was right in calling
him the humblest of men.
Though the Battle of the Somme had brought
success to the Allies, many dark days and months
followed, in which they were seldom strong enough to
attack the enemy, though they steadily kept up the
defense.
Then the day came when noble, patient Marshal
Joffre gave up command of the French army. He felt as
well as others that the war might keep on for many
years if the Allies used only methods of defense. Some

310

Ferdinand Foch – Allied Leader

one who could see more clearly how best to attack
should be chosen in his place.
On May 15, 1917, while Joffre was in the United
States, General Foch was made head of the General
Staff. For some time he had had hard work keeping up
courage in his tired soldiers. But lately good news had
come.
"The Americans are with us at last! they are sending
us aid! Not only supplies of food and ammunition are
on the way but men – fresh, brave, strong men." So the
words passed from one troop to another, and the
weary French soldiers drew breaths of relief.
Shipload after shipload of American troops went
speeding across the Atlantic. Regiment after regiment
of straight, active soldiers landed in France.
Surely the cruel Huns could be overcome now! Yet
one thing more was needed – unity. There was the
British army eager to do its best, with brave fighters
from far Australia and New Zealand, India, and Africa
in its ranks. There were the French troops fired with
the thought that France must be saved. There was
brave little Belgium, still eager to do her share, and in
the southland was the army of Italy doing wonderful
deeds of daring. The leaders of all were wise men. But
there was no one head to look the field over and direct
all the different lines as parts of one great body.
311

The Allies

Germany had such a leader; but not so the Allies.
"We must have a Generalissimo, the Commander of
all," declared Wilson, the President of the United
States. Lloyd George, the British Prime Minister,
agreed with him. So did Clemenceau, the French
Premier.
Who should be chosen for the important post?
None other than Ferdinand Foch, wise and farseeing,
the man who set the souls of his soldiers on fire for
victory.
Without question he was chosen. Quietly he took
charge of the great undertaking, with faith in God that
success would come. Germany was fighting for might.
The Allies were fighting for right. This war, then, was
to Ferdinand Foch Christ's war. Peace must be
brought about on this earth a lasting peace, and good
will among men.
Never was the busiest day too busy for the great
general to be kept from kneeling in prayer an hour each
night and morning in order that he might draw
strength from God for the tasks before him.
One day, when the fight was raging at its worst, a
young American soldier who was off duty was
wandering about a little French village not far behind
the battle front. He came to an old empty church and
312

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

stepped inside to look around. As he stood there with
bared head, another man entered. He was old and
gray-haired. He wore a uniform that was worn and
shabby. The eagles on the shoulders of his coat showed
that he must be a general. No staff of officers attended
him, however â&#x20AC;&#x201C; only an orderly bore him company.
The young soldier gave little heed to the old man
except to observe that he knelt in deep prayer, and that
he remained so for a long time â&#x20AC;&#x201C; three quarters of an
hour perhaps. Then he arose and softly left the church.
The young American followed him out and down
the street. There, to his surprise, he noticed that people
drew to one side as the general passed, gazing at him
with wondering eyes. The American saw also that
soldiers whom he met saluted him excitedly, as though
honoring some one far above ordinary officers.
It was Ferdinand Foch, Generalissimo of the armies
of the Allies in the greatest and most terrible war of all
times. While he prayed in that church millions of men
were, at his command, offering their lives in the
trenches; at his word generals were hurrying from
place to place to carry out his orders; mighty guns were
hurling defiance against the enemy. And yet, in the
midst of terrific happenings, this "Gray man of Christ"
as he has since been called, had sought the quiet little

313

The Allies

village church to draw strength and clearness of sight
from his Heavenly Father.
Even after General Pershing with his brave
American troops came to the help of the Allies, there
was a long, hard struggle ahead of them.
Germany had seen that with the coming of the
Americans, her army must fight harder than ever and
must lose no time in doing so. And why? Because the
strength of those whom she was opposing was steadily
growing with the arrival of shipload after shipload of
fresh, spirited soldiers from across the Atlantic.
Moreover, the Huns learned that, if necessary, the
United States would send five million men to resist
them. Now or never, then, Germany must win.
And so, in the early spring of 1918, she began a
terrific offensive – first, mainly in the north against the
British troops, and afterwards along a battle front of
more than four hundred miles.
One frightful attack followed another. But Foch, the
wise Generalissimo, was busy, not only with the
terrible present, but also in making plans for the future
and preparing to carry them out.
At last – it was the middle of July – he saw that the
time was ripe for an offensive of his own.

314

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

The Germans were still making fierce assaults, but
the Allies fought bravely for the positions they had
taken and destroyed one advancing wave after another.
British, French, Italian, and American troops were all
busy, meeting the onrush of the enemy and capturing
important points by attacks both on the ground and in
the air. Then â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it was on July 15 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the German
commander took a daring stand at a place which laid
him open to great danger.
Foch had expected he would do so and was
rejoiced. "I am satisfied," he said. Shortly afterwards
came the beginning of the end of the Great War.
It was of no use, Foch had decided, to try to
advance all along the many miles of battle front at
once. To begin with, the Allies did not have enough
guns.
"I must strike many blows, one after another,"
thought the Generalissimo, "and at places where my
enemies are least likely to expect them. After one attack
is started the next one must follow in a different spot as
soon afterwards as possible. The Huns must have no
time to rest. They must be tired out by the constant
strain put on them."
Many weeks went by in which the attacks of the
Allies were made more and more often, and with
greater and greater speed. Thousands upon thousands
315

The Allies

of brave soldiers were killed in these attacks, because
Foch saw that the time had come when he must not
think most of saving the lives of his men. He must
consider victory only â&#x20AC;&#x201C; victory to be won as quickly as
possible.
Long afterwards, when that victory had been
gained, he was asked, "How did you turn the German
offensive into bitter defeat?"
He replied: "You ask me to tell you in a few words.
Victories are won by science. That is true; but also by
faith. When one has faith, one does not retire; one
stops the enemy where one finds him.
"You tell me that I gave victory to France. It was our
admirable soldiers who gave it. I have but one merit â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
that of never despairing."
With faith, therefore, in final success, Foch steadily
planned and strove for that success, and with the
coming of late autumn the Huns were in full retreat. So
fast had the Allies borne down upon them that reserve
troops and needed supplies could not be brought up in
time. Fear seized their hearts. Faith in their leaders fled.
Belief in victory departed.
Then came a glad day, November 11, 1918, for
millions of people and for their savior, Ferdinand Foch.

316

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

The news had spread that Germany had given up
hope and had asked for an armistice. Her delegates had
been sent to plead for her. They traveled over the very
road near Sedan where in 1870 the French Emperor
had ridden to offer his sword to the German
conquerors. But how differently the delegates of the
enemy were treated from the way the ruler of France
had been received by the Germans in 1870.
These delegates received every courtesy. As they
rode on their way French officers guided them over the
dark roads through a stretch of forests till they reached
a stopping place for the night. The next day they were
still guided as they went on with their journey towards
Senlis. There, waiting for them in a railway car, was
Marshal Foch, the man who had attended the French
Emperor on his unhappy mission years ago. Then he
was young and unknown. Now he was old and
gray-haired and a generalissimo.
Moreover, he was sure that the German army was
at last completely in his power. Suppose he refused the
armistice! In a few days more, at the latest, the enemy
must surrender or be destroyed. But if the struggle
were allowed to go on for even those few days it would
cost the lives of more of his brave soldiers. Not one of
them, he felt, must be sacrificed without need. So, for

317

The Allies

their sakes, he would agree to the armistice, but it must
be one whose terms meant victory for the Allies.
He had carefully prepared the only terms on which
this could be granted when the German delegates
entered the car. Marshal Foch rose to receive them.
"What do you wish, gentlemen?" he asked calmly.
"We have come, Marshal, to arrange terms of an
armistice," was the answer.
Then, quietly, Foch read the terms on which the
Allies would be willing to agree to an armistice. Hard
terms they were; only a country which had been
completely defeated would accept them. But Germany,
as Foch felt sure, had been completely defeated and
would accept these terms. Once accepted, a world
peace would be sure to follow.
He was not scornful in his reading, however, though
he well remembered the day when his own ruler had
been so treated at a time like this. But joyful he must
have been. He had worked for nearly fifty years that his
country might never again suffer what she had then
suffered. Now, at last, his reward had come.
During the general rejoicing that followed the
ever-to-be remembered day many honors were
bestowed upon Marshal Foch. Among them was the
gift of the American Distinguished Service Medal.
318

Ferdinand Foch â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Allied Leader

General Pershing, the American Commander, pinned
it upon the Generalissimo's breast in the name of
President Wilson and the United States. It was a token
of the gratitude of the American people for what Foch
had done for them and for all the world.
As the Marshal received the gift, he said, "I will wear
this medal with pleasure and pride in the days of
triumph, as well as in dark and critical hours."
Then he added other beautiful words, showing his
appreciation of the help Pershing and the American
army had given in the time of need.
On that day, as at all other times, Ferdinand Foch
showed that pride had no place in his heart. As
different as light is from darkness he has always been
from William the Second of Germany, who believed so
strongly in his own power that he actually put himself
beside God. Foch, on the other hand, the great
conqueror in the cause of right, has claimed but this: "I
am God's instrument. It is for me only to try as best I
may to do His will."

319

The Second Line of Defense*
In Norwich, England, stands a memorial which will
forever be visited and prized by travelers from every
part of the world, and especially by the people of
England and of Belgium. It is the statue erected to
Edith Cavell, the British nurse who was wrongfully
condemned to death for helping innocent women and
children to escape from the terrible cruelties of the
invading Huns. That her fine courage equals the
bravery of any soldier is indicated in the sculptor's
work itself. It represents a soldier of the Allies looking
up toward her strong, kindly face, raising in his right
hand a laurel wreath to place at one side of her,
opposite the one already hung at the other.
The statue is a symbol of the glorious deeds and the
beautiful spirit of the women of France, England, and
America, during the awful conflict. It is difficult to
realize the complete revolution which took place in the
lives of the women of the world when they awakened
to the need for their services in connection with the
war.
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Ine z Bigwood
320

The Second Line of Defense

In forsaken schoolhouses and barns, as well as in
quickly erected hospitals, near the firing lines, they
moved quietly in and out among the patients,
administering needed medicines, bringing cheer and
comfort to the long line of wounded soldiers. At
unexpected moments the hospital was bombarded,
making it necessary for them hurriedly to transfer their
patients to some other building. During a
bombardment of a large theater which had been turned
into a hospital, several patients were too ill to be
moved. So some of the nurses, wearing steel helmets,
remained to care for these men while shells burst all
around them.
Certain dressing stations in which the nurses cared
for the most seriously wounded were so near the firing
line that the men could be carried to them.
Summoned, perhaps by a Red Cross dog, a nurse at
times ventured out under the enemy's fire. In the fields
or woods lay a badly injured man who must have
constant care until darkness would permit bringing
him in unseen by the enemy, for the Huns spared
neither the wounded nor the Red Cross workers.
In the operating rooms, in hospital kitchens, on
hospital trains and ships, the nurses gave no thought
for their own safety but worked untiringly to save the
wounded.
321

The Allies

But even thousands of miles from the firing line,
women were saving lives and winning the victory.
There were the girls who assisted the police in the
places of the men gone to fight. Gloriously they served
during many an air raid over France and England,
ready in the face of danger to do their full duty, â&#x20AC;&#x201D; like
those of Paris, who behaved so bravely that some one
suggested they be mentioned in the Orders of the Day.
But the commanding officer's reply only reflected the
daring spirit of the girls themselves. "No" he said, ''we
never mention soldiers in orders for doing their duty.''
There were the women and girls who went to work
in fireproof overalls, stopping before entering the shop
to be inspected and to give up all jewelry, steel hairpins,
and anything else which might cause an explosion of
the munitions among which they worked. They might
be seen often with their hair hanging in braids as they
hurried to and fro between the different sheds, over the
narrow wooden platforms, raised from the ground to
prevent them from carrying in on the soles of their
shoes any particles of grit, iron, steel, or glass, that
might cause a spark among the high explosives. So well
did these women work that near the end of the war in
many places more shells were made in two weeks than
previously could be made in a year. The many women,
willingly risking their lives in these shops, made this
work possible. In England alone, where seventy-five
322

The Second Line of Defense

out of every hundred men stepped out to fight,
seventy-five out of a hundred women and girls left their
homes and stepped in to work or to serve.
More tiresome were the long hours spent at
machines in large closed factories where army blankets
and clothing of all sorts were turned out for the use of
the fighting men.
Out on the farms the girls could be seen in overalls,
plowing furrows in long, sloping fields, and planting
potatoes and vegetables to help feed the world. With
hard work and small pay, they too helped win the
victory. One girl tells how on arriving home from work
one night, she found at the house a letter from a friend.
''How jolly it must be,'' she wrote, "and how you
must be enjoying it! '' That day had been particularly
cold and wet and windy, but the girls had worked right
through it. When they had finished, they were damp
and weary and only glad that it was time for tea. ''I
don't feel a bit patriotic," said the girl, "and I don't care
if I never plant another potato." She was an artist and
found farm life very different from sitting in a quiet
studio. But planting potatoes was more helpful to her
country and so the next morning found her up early
and ready to work again.
Like this artist many women, unused to common
labor, gladly left lives of ease and good times to help
323

The Allies

win the war even by drudgery. In the case of English
women this was particularly true, and would have been
true in America if the war had continued much longer.
As it was, the women of America responded to the call
of service with the same spirit which sent millions of
men to the colors. Besides those positions which, left
open by men going into war, were filled by women,
countless services were performed by them to add to
the comfort and happiness of soldiers, sailors, and
marines. Knitted articles were made for the needy in
the service, and for the destitute in the ravaged war
countries. Not a canteen in the whole United States
but has seen the untiring devotion of weary workers
who whole-heartedly sacrificed their time and
household comforts. In Europe the Salvation Army
''lassies'' worked in the trenches themselves. Hospitals
everywhere have been made more grateful sanctuaries
by the tender reassurance of the American nurse. As if
by one voice the fighters of the nation unite in praise
and appreciation of all the women who by their help
made the second line of defense.

324

The Unseen Host*
The man who told the tale was a private soldier,
dirty, mud-stained, and unshaven. Yet from his lips fell
a wonderful story, just as in strange places one lights on
some rare flower. He told it with many an oath and
many a blasphemy, as soldiers love to do, but with a
fire in his eyes which bespoke a living soul.
And those two friends who sat with me there and
listened to him have passed into the clearer light where
the secrets of the stars are disclosed and every tangled
skein of earth is unraveled to the eye: and I am left
alone, to grope in the darkness, to wonder, to hope,
and again to wonder; until for me, too, all mists be
rolled away. And as I tell this tale as I heard it a great
sadness fills my heart for I feel that I tell it to a world
that will believe it not.
It was in the grey of the early morning that a sentry
spotted something moving among the long grass
beyond the barbed wire. He watched intently for a few
minutes but could not be quite certain the ground mist
*

From The Unseen Host by Charles Warr
325

The Allies

was heavy and was so deceptive. A few seconds later he
again felt convinced that something moved near the
same place. He raised his rifle and fired three rounds
on the off chance of it being a prowling German. His,
shot seemed to be the signal for a perfect tornado of
yells, and suddenly out of the mist there loomed
phantom-like figures, armed with wire-cutters. In a
moment they were on the wire, cutting as for their life
â&#x20AC;&#x201C; snip went strand after strand.
It was all sudden and unexpected, but in a minute
the trench garrison lined the parapet, and a murderous
fire poured in upon the attacking Germans. There is
small chance of life when cutting wire ten yards from
the enemy's trench, and the grey figures went down by
scores, some hanging on the wire, others piled in heaps
of dead and wounded. Yet on they came in dense
masses, swarming through the mist like ghosts in the
teeth of a sweeping storm of lead. Nothing seemed to
be able to stop them, and, though falling by hundreds
in doing it, the wire was being cut more and more each
minute. And ever on they came, climbing over the
heaps of their dead. Soon there would be a bridge of
corpses over the entanglements.
The rifles of the defenders grew red-hot in their
hands, but they kept up the fire. Through the rattle and
din could be heard the shrill voices of the Cockney
326

The Unseen Host

Tommies vying with one another as to who should go
into the jaws of death with the best joke on his lips.
And the Germans still swarmed over. At the right
flank of the trench they were almost through the wire
and would soon be scrambling over the big ditch and
up the parapet; a few seconds more and the centre
might fall.
"Keep it up, lads, keep it up, for God's sake," yelled
the platoon sergeant through the uproar; " when I gives
the word, up and at 'em with the bayonet."
With their hands blistered and cut, and their faces
filthy with powder and smoke, the disheveled
wild-eyed garrison fired on.
A shrill whistle suddenly sounded, and the Germans
turned and retreated into the mist, leaving behind
them their dead and wounded, piled in heaps. A hoarse
cheer went up from the British trenches. The enemy
had retired when victory was almost within their grasp,
had they but realized it.
"That was a near thing an' no mistake," said the
platoon sergeant, drawing the back of his hand across
his cracked lips. "Gawd! I'm 'ot !" He pushed his cap
back off his forehead and, sitting down on an
ammunition box, began to pull through the barrel of
his rifle.
327

The Allies

"All rifles cleaned at once, boys," he shouted along
the trenches. "Come on there, Atkins, lift your carcase
off that fire-step you're not 'ere on a bloomin' picnic,
are yer?"
The hot smoking rifles were cleaned and polished,
ready for immediate use; the corroded barrels were
oiled and shining.
"They'll be at us again before long," growled the
sergeant, squirting tobacco juice from the corner of his
mouth. "The wire's down now, and they've got a
bloomin' Piccadilly over their pals' corpses. Double
these sentries, Gray."
His corporal walked along the trench and saw the
order executed, then returned and sat down by the
sergeant.
"Where's the officer been all the while?" he asked,
lighting a cigarette.
"Blow'd if I know â&#x20AC;&#x201C; never seen him since the
blighters attacked â&#x20AC;&#x201C; well, my lad, what is it?"
The officer's orderly approached.
"Mr. Venables wants to speak to you, sergeant," he
said; "I can't make out what's gone wrong with him. He
slept in his dugout all through the attack. I shook and
shook him an' 'e wouldn't wake. I yells inter his ear and
he wouldn't 'ear me. Then I pours the water out of 'is
328

The Unseen Host

bottle over 'is face and down 'is neck and damn'd if he'd
open 'is bloomin' eyes. I thought 'e was dead but for 'is
breathin' . . . Never see'd anythin'
"Arnott!" shouted a voice from the officer's dugout.
"There 'e is, sergeant, hollerin' for yer . . . better look
slippy."
Sergeant Arnott scrambled along to the dugout and
crawled inside. The subaltern in charge of the trench
sat on a biscuit box, his head in his hands. He sat in
silence for a while, then looked up his eyes were very
bright and shining.
"When did that attack begin, Arnott?"
"About ten minutes after you had been round the
trench, sir â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it came on sudden-like."
"And how long did it last?"
"About 'arf an hour, sir. I thought the blighters were
in on us they would 'ave bin, too, if they'd only 'ad the
sense to keep on. They'll be at us again soon, sir the
wire's mostly all cut."
The subaltern passed a hand wearily across his
brow.
"It's so funny, Arnott, but I must have been asleep
all the time they were attacking " â&#x20AC;&#x201C;

329

The Allies

"You was, sir," interposed the sergeant gravely,
"sleepin' like a top. . . . Meredith 'e couldn't waken you,
'e says, although 'e poured the water from your
water-bottle down your neck."
The subaltern smiled faintly.
"Yes? . . . But I had a strange dream . . . can't
remember much of it, ... but a shining figure seemed to
speak to me and to tell me we were going to be in for a
deuced hot time of it – you see, Arnott, this part is the
key to the British position " –
The sergeant nodded.
"But he said we were to stick it out no matter what
happened and he would help us and then he went away
. . . I remember he had a sword in his hand – it looked
like fire. He was awfully like a big fellow on the reredos
in the church at home – an angel – Michael, I think
they call him. But it was all rather strange, Arnott,
wasn't it?" he added, smiling, and lit a cigarette.
"It was that, sir."
'"Well, come round the trench with me and see that
these fellows are all ready if they do attack us."
The words had scarcely left his lips when there was
a wild shout from the sentries, and the rattle of rapid
fire broke out. The officer and his sergeant raised their
heads above the parapet. It was clear enough now to
330

The Unseen Host

see the German lines, and the sight they saw was that
which, when seen for the first time, brings a curious
momentary flutter to even the stoutest heart – the
German hordes attacking in close formation. They
were already half over the no-man's-land between the
two trenches, falling, falling, row after row, but still
coming on. Over the British trench shrieked the
shrapnel, and glancing backwards, the officer saw it
bursting over the support trenches, and the intervening
waste being smashed with high explosives. Few, if any,
supports would get up through that awful inferno. The
reserves of grey troops seemed endless – would they
never stop pouring over the distant parapets?
Step by step they gained ground, despite the
steadiness and accuracy of our fire; little by little the
ranks came nearer, mown down like grain, but always
immediately replaced. On either side the British
trenches poured in their enfilade fire, then ceased – it
was getting too risky, as they might damage their own
men.
"Keep that – machine-gun goin', men," yelled
Sergeant Arnott, perspiration running in streams down
his fiery face, "keep it goin' ! . . . . what the 'ell are you
waitin' for?"
"Machine gun's jammed!" came back the grim reply.

331

The Allies

"God in 'eavin'!" muttered the sergeant, "our ticket's
in ". . . and seizing a rifle he commenced blazing away.
"'Ow's that for Bisley?" shouted a Tommy, as a
bearded German fell fifteen yards from the parapet.
"First bull you ever made, sonny," jeered his
neighbour; " 'oly Moses, but they're gettin' close."
The little band prepared to face the end.
" 'We all go the same way 'ome'" blithely sang a
young private, jamming his magazine full.
For five minutes they fired desperately.
"Bill! wot the 'ell's that?" yelled someone.
"Wot the 'ell's wot?"
The two men filled their magazines like lightning,
and shouted as they fired:
"That there trampin' – I can 'ear it above the
bloomin' row – there you are, at our back! like a
bloomin' army."
Bill glanced hurriedly over the waste ground
between the firing line and supports.
'There's no bloomin' army there," he said, grimly;
"wish to Gawd there was."
But in a moment he heard it – so did the others –
the sound as of a great host advancing in their rear.
332

The Unseen Host

Glances were cast over their shoulders, but the fire
never slackened. There was no one there, and the
Germans drew nearer.
Tramp, tramp, tramp. . . .
It sounded on their ears through the roar of the
shells and the rattle of the musketry, like the marching
of ten thousand men, steady, rhythmical, coming
nearer, nearer. . . .
Tramp, tramp . . . like the surge of a great sea . . . and
the clatter of hoofs, loud and fierce, the clatter of
squadrons of horsemen . . .
Tramp, tramp . . . the unseen host drew closer,
closer . . . over the British trench swept something like
the rush of a mighty wind, whirling them from their
feet on to the ground.
The Germans who had reached the parapet stood
as if turned to stone. One man had time to fire his
bullet at the subaltern . . . then the grey battalions
turned and fled. . . .
Tramp, tramp, tramp – and onward swept the
unseen host. . . .
"O, thank God! there he is," cried the subaltern,
shot in the head, ere he fell back, "there he – is how like
he is to the fellow on the reredos in the church at home
– at home –"
333

The Allies

As he fell back he pointed beyond their parapet, and
those near him who heard him and followed his finger
saw a great light, a radiant figure, something that
flashed like a sword of flame â&#x20AC;&#x201C; only for a moment â&#x20AC;&#x201C;
then nothing but the retreating Germans, rushing for
the cover of their trenches.
"I 'ope I 'aven't tired you with my story, sirs," said
the private when he finished, "but as you was good
enough to speak to me, I thought you would like to 'ear
it . . . goodnight, sirs."
He saluted and went out.
That man, snatched in some mysterious way from
the mouth of death, believed that on his side that day
had fought Gabriel the captain of the hosts of heaven,
Michael the archangel, and all angels, with the powers
and principalities of light had fought for him, and did
smite and win the victory. . . .
And I believe it too.

334

In Memoriam *
[The Fighting Years, 1914-1918]
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new.
Ring, happy bells, across the snow â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
*

From Winning a Cause by John Thompson and Inez Bigwood
335

The Allies

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right.
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes and foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Tennyson

336

In Flanders Fields*
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae.